Between Two Points
by rochesters
Summary: Bones thought that after his divorce it would take a miracle to be in another relationship. Apparently miracles happen in the form of tequila shots. (Post-Into Darkness, Spoilers)
1. Chapter One

**Between Two Points**  
By Rochesters

**Disclaimer:** Not mine.

**Acknowledgements:**A huge thank you my beta readers Emma, Joell, and Shelly for cleaning up my work and letting me bounce ideas off you ladies. You are wonderful and amazing and I appreciate everything you've done!

**Chapter One**

It all started because Jim wanted to go to the club at the Andromeda Space Hub. He had told McCoy that it would be good for the crew to let off some steam, having been a month into their five year mission.

"You mean," McCoy replied back in a surly tone as he scanned Jim's vitals. "It would be good for _you_ to let off some steam."

He watched as his friend and captain rolled his brilliant blue eyes in an exaggerated fashion. "Bones," Jim whined, slumping his shoulders. "Even _you_ need to let loose."

"I don't need to do anything," McCoy snapped. "Especially if it's something that _your_ idea!"

"I have_ great_ ideas," Jim said before yelping as a hypospray kissed his neck. "Jesus! Warn me next time."

McCoy snorted. "Infant," he muttered as he readied another hypospray.

"Sadist," Jim spat back.

McCoy rolled his eyes. "That is Dr. Sadist to you, kid," he said as he injected another hypospray into his friend's neck, hearing him hiss in pain. "So tell me, what great ideas have you had that didn't end in disaster?"

"That time we went bar hopping in North Beach after finals."

"You almost got arrested."

"What about the time we streaked through the girl's dorm?"

"That was _you_, and I clearly remember that you contracted the flu because it was the middle of December."

Jim made a face and it seemed to McCoy that he was about to win this argument until he saw the young captain's face light up like a Christmas tree. "The Betazoid twins," he said with a stupid grin on his face.

McCoy arched a brow before letting out a groan. "Fine," he grunted. "That was once. Don't let it go to your head."

"Let what go to his head?" asked Christine Chapel as she came into the Medical Cube, carrying supplies in her arms for restocking. She looked at McCoy with curiosity as she set the supplies down on a corner top.

Jim beamed a the nurse. "That I had one good idea," he chirped.

"I wasn't asking you," Christine immediately snapped at the captain as soon as he finished his sentence. She shot Jim a dirty look before turning her back to the two men.

McCoy sniffled a fit of laughter, much to Jim's annoyance.

"Dick," Jim hissed.

McCoy shrugged his shoulders. "You're good to go, kid," he said, ignoring Jim's comment. "I want you back here in two weeks for another checkup, you understand?"

"Yeah, yeah," Jim said dismissively as he hopped off the BioBed, straightening his uniform. "Always a pleasure, Bones. Christine."

Christine ignored him, continuing to restock the cube. As Jim left, McCoy brought his used instruments to the corner.

"I would say ignore him, but it seems you're already doing a fine job at that," McCoy remarked as he took off his gloves and tossed them into the nearest trash compactor.

He heard her laugh. "I'm glad you think so," she replied, not looking at him as she worked. "Jim's an ass," McCoy offered, seeing the stunned looked on the nurse's face. He shrugged again. "I know he's my friend, but if I'm being honest…"

He watched Christine lean against the counter, her eyes on him, making a study of the doctor. "You know what they say about the company you keep…"

For a moment, he thought that she was insulting him until McCoy saw the grin on her face. With a chuckle, Christine went back to restocking as McCoy disposed of any biohazards on his tray.

"So," he said trying to make conversation. "Are you going out with the rest of the crew?"

"Probably." Christine turned to him with a smirk on her face. "Someone has to keep an eye on them."

It was McCoy's turn to chuckle.

"What about you?"

"I was trying to avoid it to be honest. The last time I went out with Jim, we almost got jumped by a gang of Klingons because he couldn't keep his drunk trap shut."

"Sounds like a fun Saturday night."

"Indeed," McCoy said, catching Christine's sarcasm.

Christine grabbed the rest of her supplies. "Only two more cubes to go."

McCoy nodded absently as Christine went to leave the cube, too busy making notes on his PADD.

"I'll make a deal with you," he heard her say.

McCoy looked up and turned to face his nurse as he crossed his arms over his chest. "A deal about what?"

"If you come out tonight, I'll buy you a round," Christine said. "And I'll make sure you get back to your quarters without the captain's interference."

Just as McCoy was about to decline, he remembered that Jim had drank the last of his good bourbon…and the rest of the alcohol that he had stashed in his quarters. The thought of a glass of bourbon did sound appealing, especially if Jim was preoccupied at the club – which McCoy knew he would be.

He heard Christine's fingers tapping against the supplies she had cradled in her arms and finally nodded once, then twice.

"Really?" Christine said, sounding surprised. "Well…I guess I'll see you tonight."

McCoy nodded. "I'll buy the next round."

"Sounds like a plan."

As McCoy learned in his thirty-three years, life never went according to plan, which would explain his current situation. The music that played at the club thumped in his ears, something that would normally make him feel like his head was about to explode, instead egged him on as he wraps Christine's arms around his neck, pulling her closer to him. She turns around in his arms, allowing McCoy to grip her hips as they sway to the music, letting the beat pulse through their bodies.

A little voice tells him that if someone from the ships sees them, they could be in big trouble. The voice is hushed by the alcohol coursing through his veins, casting all the logic and reason that McCoy normally had.

He lost count on the fourth shot of tequila, which he chased with a Corona Classic. He snorted as Jim dribbled tequila down the front of his shirt as Christine managed to take hers without a hitch.

She had winked mischievously at McCoy as she set the shot glass down on the bar, her eyes twinkling in the strobe light filled club, while Jim swore at the mess he was making of himself. McCoy watched as Christine laughed at Jim, grabbing the partially filled shot glass out of his hand and downing it despite the captain's protests.

Despite himself, McCoy laughed, nearly choking on his beer and gave Christine a sloppy high five as Jim whined about losing the shot and turned around to order another round.

At some point during the evening, McCoy remembered that Jim disappeared and Christine had dragged him out to the dance floor despite his protests that he couldn't dance.

In the present, her ass is grinding against his crotch sending jolts of electricity down his spine as they bodies come into closer contact. McCoy digs his fingers into the fabric of her dress, brushing his lips against her cheek and flicking his tongue at her earlobe. He can taste her skin, sweaty from dancing and drinking, and he wants more.

McCoy feels her laughter vibrate through his chest, piercing his core and arousing him. Christine tilts her face upward and shoots him a look that seemingly dares him to break protocol – both personal and professional. McCoy raises a brow in reply and smirks as he brings his lips to hers in a chaste kiss.

They break apart, both of them grinning like idiots. McCoy grabs her hand and drags her off the dance floor, her giggles egging him on as they duck into a darken corridor.

"Where are we going?" Christine laughs as she holds onto McCoy's hand.

McCoy tugs her to him, kissing her deeper this time. He feels her lips against his, savoring the sensation of a woman's lips brushing against his own, the danger and excitement...all new and unexpected, but so right. They stumble down the corridor, groping at each other and giggling into each other's mouths until McCoy finds a nook.

It's empty, it's dark, and it's far enough away that no one will come upon them in flagrante.

He pulls Christine inside, pining her against the wall. McCoy brushes his lips against her neck, nipping at the skin with his teeth, feeling Christine pressing herself up against him as a moan escapes her lips. Her hands are flush against his shirt, feeling his muscles move under the Starfleet issued material.

His lips move to her neck, nipping at the tender flesh, inciting another moan from her. McCoy kisses Christine's mouth once more, tracing her lips with the tip of his tongue as one of his hands cups her breast, squeezing it through her dress.

"Jesus Christ," he hears Christine sigh as his hand left her breast, trailing down her body. McCoy chuckles, feeling his fingers as they glide up her thigh at a painful slow pace. "What do you want?" he asks hoarsely.

"I want _you_."

McCoy groans, hearing the desire in her voice. His fingers travel up to the edge of her underwear, where he can feel the heat of her sex permeating. "Tell me," he whispers in her ear, pulling at her underwear, inching the flimsy fabric down her thighs until it is cast aside on the club's floor. "Tell me what you want."

She only moans in reply as McCoy presses a finger against her heated core, teasing her with feather light pressure. McCoy watches Christine close her eyes in the dimly lit nook as his finger skillfully enters, expertly claiming her with his touch. She arches her back, grabbing his shoulder and squeezing as the length of his finger moves deeper.

McCoy can feel himself hardening as he watches how he provokes Christine. "Like that?"

He watches her nod, her mouth agape in pleasure. McCoy feels how his slow and deliberate movements make her wetter, especially as his finger presses down on her sweet spot. Christine tightens against him, letting out a strangled moan, probably louder than she would like.

His mouth captures hers as another one of his fingers joins the one buried deep inside of her. Hungrily, McCoy kisses Christine as his ministrations between her leg speed up. His free hand touches her breast, caressing it through the material of her dress, pinching her aroused nipple.

As his thumb brushes against her nipple, he presses against her clit, rubbing it with her own juices.

McCoy can sense Christine's orgasm building, a slow wave that gains momentum and strength. He lets out a groan as she grabs his hair, feeling the dark brown strands between her fingers. In turn, McCoy kisses her furiously, feeling his tongue dancing around her own. Christine rocks her hips against his hand, her thrusts meeting his.

McCoy grunts as Christine's insides flutter against his fingers, bringing her closer to the edge and makes his cock ache with wanting. He breaks the kiss, bringing his lips to her ear. "Sweet Jesus," he whispers, his voice raw with desire.

He rubs her clit in circles, kneading the tender flesh and bringing Christine closer to breaking. McCoy hears her moans, punctuated with the sound of her pleading.

"Tell me what you want," he demands hoarsely, as her sex tightens around his digits. "Tell me," he demands again, thrusting his fingers into her harder, bringing her closer to the brink.

"You," she whispers. "You. I want you."

McCoy watches his colleague go over the edge, her orgasm peaking and becoming helpless to his prowess. As the music pulses through the club, it drowns out her cries of pleasure allowing them to only ring in McCoy's ears as he coaxes each wave of pleasure from her body.

McCoy slows his movements, allowing Christine's orgasm to come to a satisfying end, leaving her panting. She looks at him with heavy lids before pulling him to her for another kiss. Their foreheads touch, both of them perspiring, and McCoy feels the proverbial dam breaking, washing away his inhibitions.

Christine's hands are at his zipper of his trousers, tugging the piece of metal down with swift fingers. McCoy groans as she pulls his erection out, stroking it teasingly.

She is kneading his engorged head, her thumb rubbing underneath. McCoy hisses through his teeth, feeling himself coming undone as Christine strokes the length of him, teasing him.

McCoy grabs her by the waist and hoists her up against the wall. Cupping her ass, McCoy grins as Christine wraps her legs around his waist and gives her flesh a squeeze before lowering her onto his erection.

"Fuck," he hisses as his dick brushed pass her swollen lips and into the center of her core. He hears Christine gasp, bracing her body against the wall as McCoy inches himself into her. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."

As soon as McCoy feels their flesh connect at the base of his erection, he knows that this will be quick. His body trembles with anticipation and nerves, since it has been a while since he slept with anyone. Or perhaps the alcohol is wearing off and he's nervous about sleeping with Christine.

"Damn it to hell," he grunts, hearing Christine's laughter.

Inside the nook and to the obliviousness of the other club goers, McCoy begins thrusting in and out of Christine, burying himself deep inside of her with pent-up need. He hears Christine's moans echoing in his eardrums, which only urges him on.

Christine meets each of his thrusts, both of them finding a rhythm that suits the urgency of the moment. McCoy moans as he drives into her, squeezing her ass as his thrusts gain momentum.

Pleasure courses through his body, heightened by the tequila's side effects. McCoy lets out a choked cry as Christine begin to shudder around him, losing herself in her second orgasm.

"God, Leonard."

The sound of her moaning his name sets him off almost immediately. He feels his balls contract and a fire burning through him as he nears his own orgasm. McCoy stiffens against her and hisses through gritted teeth as he unloads himself inside of her. He closes his eyes, his vision blinded by pinpoints of light as he comes, shuddering.

The sparkling darkness recedes and McCoy finds himself back in the nook with Christine pressed against his quivering body. His forehead is resting against hers, both of them sweaty and breathing heavily.

The music is still going and they remain undiscovered.

McCoy kisses her again, tugging on her lower lip with his teeth. He wants more of Christine, consequences be damned. Given her reaction, he knows that she wants more of him too.

"Let's get out of here," he says huskily. His heart leaps as she nods in agreement.

They detangle themselves from each other in silence between hurried kisses. McCoy finds her discarded underwear near his foot and watches as she shimmies it on, grinning stupidly. Once they are both presentable, McCoy takes Christine by the hand and leads her out of the club and back to the _Enterprise_.

By a small mercy, the hallways are quiet because it's the gamma shift and most of the crew is still at the club. They don't run into anyone as they make their way towards McCoy's quarters and manage to sneak a kiss or two on the turbolift.

As soon as the door opens to his quarters, McCoy and Christine are pawing at each other, removing clothing as they make their way towards his bed. McCoy bumps into the doorframe as Christine pulls off his shirt and discards it on the floor, but barely notices the blunder. His lips are pressing against hers, his hands cupping her face, their skin finally touching.

They fall on the mattress in a tangle of limbs, the sounds of their moans echoing off the walls of the doctor's quarters, oblivious to the rest of the world.

In the morning, McCoy is awakened by a pair of lips pressed against his temple. He is sprawled out on his stomach, his naked body sparingly covered by the Starfleet issued sheets. Sleepily, McCoy lifts his head off the pillow and sees Christine kneeling over him with a drowsy smile on her face.

"What time is it?" he asks, his voice thick with sleep. He gets a good look at her, seeing her sex tousled hair falling over her shoulders and the dreamy look on her face.

It's the type of expression that secretly hints that one had too much sex and too little sleep.

If McCoy were a betting man, he more likely than not has the same expression all over his face.

The mattress shifts as Christine sits down, her fingers tracing their way down McCoy's bare back. "It's early," she replies, softly. "Go back to sleep."

"How early?" he asks, closing his eyes as Christine kisses his shoulder blade.

He hears her mutter, her tone filled with amusement, "Early. Gamma shift is ending."

She runs her fingers through his messy hair and he pleasantly remembers her with a fistful of it as she laid on her back with McCoy's head between her thighs, calling out his name over and over like a litany.

"I'm going to get going," she says, planting another kiss on him, this time his lips. "See you during our next shift."

McCoy watches her rise from the bed and suddenly he feels panic overwhelming him. The 'what-ifs' start flooding his mind: What if she ends up regretting what happened? What if she can't keep her mouth shut (unlikely, but still)? What if she ends up turning out to be a complete psycho?

What if she doesn't like him once the alcohol has worn off?

"We should do this again sometime," Christine says as she walks to the doorway, her shoes in hand.

McCoy raises his head, momentarily stunned. Usually this kind of thing happens to Jim…not him. He's too surly, too bitter.

Too broken.

He sees that Christine is waiting for his reaction. He nods in agreement. "We should," he replies.

"Good," she says, a mischievous grin on her face. "Sleep well, Leonard."

And with that she's gone and McCoy falls back onto the mattress, breathing a sigh of contentment. Until they 'do this again' as Christine had suggested, McCoy has the memories from several hours before.

He's about to close his eyes when he hears the door to his quarters opening again. For a moment he wonders (and hopes) if it's Christine again until the sound of Jim's grunts fill the other room.

McCoy rolls his eyes as he listens to Jim stumble into his quarters, still drunk from the night before.

"Bones!" he whines. "BONES!" The captain's voice booms across the living space and part of McCoy wants to finish the radiation poisoning's job. With his bare hands.

"God man, can't you go to your own quarters!" McCoy barks. He turns over and sees Jim leaning heavily against the doorframe, looking like a shit disturbing kid.

Jim grins, momentarily losing his balance. "Where did you go last night?"

"I went to bed," McCoy snaps. It's not exactly a lie…he was technically in bed.

Jim looks appalled. "You," he slurs, "went to bed?" He trips his way over to the couch under the viewport in McCoy's bedroom and lands head first on the cushions with a pleased sigh. "Party pooper."

"Infant."

"Debbie Downer."

"Dumb hick."

"That," Jim says, lifting his head up, "is Captain Dumb Hick to you." He kicks off his shoes, sending one of them flying at the bookcase. "Oops."

McCoy shakes his head and drops his head back on the pillow. "One of these days, kid…"

"Ah c'mon, Bones," Jim says as he settles himself on the couch. "You love me."

The kid is right and even McCoy knows it.

"Go to bed, Jim," McCoy mumbles.

Just when McCoy thinks he will finally get some sleep, he hears Jim turn over on the couch. "Bones…why are you naked?"

"GO. TO. BED. GODDAMMIT!"


	2. Chapter Two

**Chapter Two**

The next time McCoy sees her it's at their weekly staff meeting. Christine comes in, business as usual, and is chatting with another nurse. The nurse says something to Christine that makes her laugh and McCoy can't help but look at her.

Two days had passed since their encounter and for some god forsaken reason, McCoy can't stop thinking about her.

Perhaps it's the allure of a sex haze, but he finds that Christine's smile lights up the otherwise dull conference room.

As she sits down and sets her PADD down the table, she flashes McCoy a friendly grin. He, of course, because of stupidity, is stunned and slow on returning it. When he does, she arches a suspecting brow and turns back to her friend, who is still speaking to her.

"How was your weekend?" McCoy hears the other nurse asking Christine.

Christine is nonchalant. "It was eventful," she replies, momentarily looking at him with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

"Did you go to the club at Andromeda?" asks the nurse. For the life of him, McCoy cannot remember her name.

Perhaps it's because Christine is usually at his side, always ready and collected.

He watches Christine nod as she begins to type on her PADD. "Only for a little bit though," she says.

"I thought I saw you doing shots when McCoy, here, and the captain," another Sick Bay staff member pips in as he sits down next to McCoy.

McCoy feels his heart drop into his stomach, not in the literal sense, of course, but the nauseating feeling is all the same. Everyone at the club may have been drunk (or high on illegal substances), but they weren't blind!

"Ah," Christine says, announcing the word haphazardly. "I was until the captain ran off. Did you end up finding him, McCoy?" She is looking at him again, cool as a cucumber.

McCoy nods. "He barged into my quarters in the morning like nothing was wrong," he answers. He sees that Christine understands what the underlying words in his reply means.

"Typical," she breathes, turning her attention back to her PADD.

He is relieved that no one noticed them ducking down the corridor or their blatant flirting on the dance floor. McCoy has no desire to be a part of the ship's gossip mill and certainly doesn't want to hear his name involved with any of it.

"What about you, Dr. McCoy," asks the nurse, turning her line of questioning on him. "How was your weekend aside from babysitting?"

A few people chuckle at the last remark, much to McCoy's chagrin.

McCoy shoots the nurse who said the dirtiest look he can muster and feels a bit of satisfaction at watching her shrivel in her seat. When he's done, he rolls his eyes and starts the meeting as his staff finishes filling into the room.

Once the staff meeting is concluded, he heads off for his morning rounds before departing for the bridge to join in on a briefing with Jim and Spock.

The former barely remembered stumbling into McCoy's quarters, much less why his CMO was naked. By the time Jim had slept off his latest bender, McCoy was dressed, irritable, and itching to get his friend out of his quarters for some alone time.

Jim makes no comment about it during their briefing and it seems to McCoy that the captain was truly too intoxicated to remember.

The only thing Jim asks McCoy is if he plans to join in on the weekly poker night set for later that week. McCoy is waiting for a quip about "having other plans" from Jim, but it never happens.

Without further incident, McCoy goes back to Sick Bay to find that he has to reduce the shoulder of an ensign who fell down a flight of stairs in the labs. Aside from the dislocated shoulder and some abrasions, he will be fine.

When he enters the medical cube, Christine has already administered a hypospray filled with a sedative and is putting the instrument down on the tray next to the BioBed. The ensign is out cold and snoring.

"Don't these kids know how to walk?" McCoy asks as he pulls on a pair of gloves. He hears Christine giggle in reply and glances up at her with the most charming grin he can muster. He's not Jim and he's certainly no charmer. Flirting doesn't come easy to him unless heavy drinking is involved and usually he feels like an ass.

Christine shrugs her shoulders as she checks the ensign's vitals. "Apparently stairs are a difficult beast to tackle."

McCoy snorts back laughter as he leans over the patient, wrapping the ensign's limp arm to the appropriate position. "Stupid kid is lucky he didn't break his neck," McCoy grunts. "Can you brace him for me?"

He sees Christine bob her head and move behind the ensign. A lock of her hair comes out of its bun and it takes all of McCoy's willpower not to stop the reduction right there to brush it behind her ear.

"So," she says as they reduce the ensign's shoulder. "Jim came by after I left."

McCoy nods as he tugs. "Like clockwork." He hears the telltale pop of cartilage and bone and the ensign's shoulder is reduced. "It's his modus operandi: show up at the most inconvenient time."

"Maybe Jim just wanted to take a look at your nicely formed posterior," Christine quips, winking at McCoy.

McCoy laughs. "He's seen it plenty of times," he replies. "It's nothing new."

"That is very interesting and telling," Christine says as she pulls out her PADD to update the patient's file. She knows that McCoy is gaping at her, struggling to renege his previous sentence, and looks up with a smirk.

He can tell that Christine enjoys seeing him flustered and there are very few people who can accomplish that. "I can reveal a few other interesting and telling anecdotes, but they are not work appropriate," he retorts back.

"Intriguing," Christine says, her brow arching in curiosity. "Perhaps you can tell me about them after our shift ends."

McCoy feels the sudden increased blood flow to his pants and clears his throat to disguise a groan of complete and utter desperation. What he wouldn't give to have her naked in his bed again... "Tonight?"

He watches Christine nod, her lock of hair still loose and brushing against her pale skin. McCoy motions her to lean in closer to him and tenderly brushes the hair behind her ear, feeling her lobe on his fingertips. She shivers and if the ensign wasn't there or they were in his room, McCoy would have taken her right there.

"Are you sure," he whispers into her ear, his voice husky. "I have a lot of anecdotes."

"I am quite aware of them, McCoy," she whispers back. She takes a step back and grins. "And I am sure."

McCoy's lips curve into a grin. "Does 20:00 hours at my quarters work for you?"

She nods and leaves without another word.

Throughout the day, McCoy and Christine give each other knowing looks that fly under the staff's radar. It is common knowledge that the two of them are close-knit team and seemingly psychically in-tune during emergencies and procedures.

If anyone saw them, they would think nothing of it, and it was small comfort to McCoy as he went to his office to finish up some paperwork before leaving for the evening.

He can barely contain his excitement as he rushes back to his quarters. He is pretty sure that it looks like an intergalactic tornado hit it during the weekend and would die of embarrassment if Christine laid eyes on it.

At least he changed his sheets the evening before.

McCoy punches in his access code to his quarters and commands that the lights be turned on. It's not as terrible as he had predicted: his desk is littered with paperwork, a dirty workout shirt is hanging off the sofa, shoes are unceremoniously dumped by the latrine door. He is a Southern Gentleman to the core and the mess - no matter how small - he has made of his living space is unacceptable.

The chime rings as he's grabbing the last of his belongings. Standing in the middle of his quarters, McCoy decides to blindly toss them in a dark corner. He hasn't had time to change out of his uniform as he had planned and secretly hopes that Christine has some sort of doctor-patient role-play fantasy that she wants to enact.

On the second ring, McCoy opens the door to see Christine standing there. She is holding her PADD under one arm and is still wearing her uniform, which clings to her body in all of the right places.

McCoy swallows hard as he steps aside to let her into his quarters and allows the door to shut. He puts his communication panel on Do Not Disturb and turns to her, smirking at her PADD.

"Is there something you'd like me to see?" he asks, wagging his brows.

Christine sets the PADD down on the surface closest to her and shakes her head. "It's for show," she replies. "We can't have our indiscretions whispered about through the halls of the _Enterprise_."

He watches as Christine turns her back towards him and her finger tracing the surface of his desk, similar to how her fingers ran down his spine.

He flushes at the pleasant memory of her sitting up in his bed, naked and uninhibited, as she stroked his back, her mouth following her fingers. When her mouth reaches the small of his back, McCoy turns over and reaches for her with a sly grin on his face.

He shakes his head, his uniform suddenly feeling too hot and constricting. Licking his lips, McCoy comes up behind her and makes his presence known by pressing his semi hard-on against her backside. He hears her groan. "I don't know if whispering is the correct terminology," he says unevenly as his hands clutch her hips.

"Screaming perhaps?" Christine breathes, leaning into him.

McCoy's hand moves from her hips to the nape of her neck and unzips her uniform, the material parting to reveal her pale skin. He nips at the space between her shoulder blades, feeling her hair tickling his nose. "You did most of the screaming if I remember correctly."

"Hmm," he hears Christine hum in agreement. He's pulling the zipper down further, revealing the back of her bra and soon her underwear covered derriere. "You didn't seem to mind."

He's pushing the fabric of Christine's uniform over her shoulders, deliberately touching her breasts, massaging them for a moment before continuing to undress her. He hears her whine in protest and can't help but grin to himself.

"Definitely not," he says hoarsely as the uniform pools at her feet. McCoy runs his fingers over the hem of her underwear as his lips kiss her shoulders. "God woman, I could take you here right now."

"Why aren't you?" she counters.

McCoy takes her hair out of its bun, watching the tousled locks falling over her shoulders, and grins. "Sweetheart, I do have some measure of control."

"You call _this_ control?" Christine retorts, turning her head towards him.

McCoy presses his lips against her shoulder blade and nods.

"I'm practically naked!"

"You still have your underwear on," McCoy reasons. He looks down, seeing her boots and gulps. "And your boots."

Christine suddenly turns around and clutches the front of his uniform, smiling deviously. "You like that, huh?"

McCoy begins stuttering a response, but his train of thought is interrupted by Christine pulling off his blue tunic followed by his black undershirt, deliberating ranking her manicured fingernails over his torso. He sucks in a breath and utters the faintest groan.

Her hand is flat against his bare chest, pushing him backwards, and her laughter is ringing in his ears. McCoy finds himself falling onto a couch cushion as a grunt escape his lips. He's about to say something when Christine bends over and kisses him.

It starts out as a tender kiss, almost like the chaste one at the club. McCoy closes his eyes as Christine deepens the kiss, her tongue darting between his lips. He is pulling her onto his lap, one arm cradling her rump as his other hand draws her mouth closer to his, tangling his fingers with her hair.

They both of them sigh with pleasure as Christine settles in McCoy's lap, brushing against the tented fabric between his legs.

She breaks the kiss, looking down at his lap. "Fancy seeing you here," she jokes before slinking down McCoy's body.

McCoy clears his throat and leans back against the cushions as Christine removes his pants and underwear, pulling them down past his knees. He closes his eyes and groans as the fabric comes to a halt. He is hard and ready, his head glistening with precum. "Why did you stop?" he asks as he opens his eyes and lifts his head to look at her.

The sight of Christine Chapel kneeling over his groin wearing only her boots and Starfleet underwear is nearly too much to handle. It's almost every male cadet's fantasy come to life and McCoy takes a great measure of satisfaction about his circumstances.

She grins up at him, her mouth dangerously close to his dick. All McCoy can think is _oh shit_.

"Oh...you...you don't need to do..." McCoy weakly protests until the feeling of Christine's mouth enveloping around his organ causes him to lose all coherent thought. With a strangled sound, McCoy's head drops onto the back of the couch and he is staring up at the ceiling of his quarters. He can feel his mouth moving, but no sound is coming out.

He can feel her lips, throat, and tongue working his dick into a frenzy and whimpers. He's breathing heavily as she goes faster, finding the right pace and rhythm. With shaking hands, he clutches his hair and groans again, trying to stay as still as possible.

Jocelyn hated - no, **loathed** - giving him head. She complained that it made her jaw hurt, that he moved too much, that it was uncomfortable, and that she hated it when he came in her mouth.

Like a good husband, McCoy did his best to be understanding, but in reality, he missed receiving oral sex.

McCoy lifts his head again and lets out a noise that sounds something like a squeak and a groan. Christine has the length of him in her mouth and she is winking at him.

"Jesus...woman," McCoy moans, closing his eyes. He knows that he is well endowed from choice comments from his high school girlfriend, his ex-wife, and sporadic drunken hook-ups at Starfleet.

Even Jim, who had caught him without a towel whilst changing in the Starfleet gym bathrooms, commented, "Really Bones? Put that thing away...you're going to make me look bad!"

McCoy moans again as Christine's head bobs up and down his shaft. He is clutching the cushions of the couch, digging his fingernails into the fibers and swearing under his breath. He feels the vibration of Christine chuckling. "It's...it's not funny, Chapel," he breathes, shooting her a dirty look.

She shrugs her shoulders in response, her mouth otherwise occupied. Christine raises a brow teasingly as if she's saying "It actually _is_, buddy."

The woman isn't even breaking a sweat at her exertions and part of McCoy's brain is screaming "This is RIDICULOUS!"

"Only you could make being sassy in a time like this look cute," McCoy groans, his hands finding their way to the back of her head. He has a fistful of her hair in one of his hands before he knows it and he expects her to lift her head up in protest. Much to his shock and pleasure, Christine keeps going.

One of her hands moves and McCoy cries out as she cups his balls, rolling them in time of her mouth.

This is too much, way too much for him. McCoy bucks into her mouth and whines, "Chris...if you keep that up..."

To his chagrin, she does keep it up, tugging lightly on his ball sack before moving her hand to the base of his shaft, where she begins stroking him.

McCoy looks down and sees her mouth and hand meeting. A storm is brewing deep in his groin and he knows that he isn't going to be able to hold out much longer. "Christine," he says hoarsely, his voice rising an octave with each word. "Chris. Chapel. Chapel! I'm…shit. Goddammit, Chapel!"

He feels a rush leaving his balls. "Chapel, seriously…I'm going to…" McCoy sees her looking up at him, their eyes meeting, and it's now his turn to scream.

McCoy shudders into her mouth, his penis pulsating aggressively as his cum filling Christine's mouth. The very thought of that makes McCoy buck his hips as his body surrenders to one of the longest orgasms he's ever known. His voice and all its incoherent resonances fills his quarters, not caring if someone can hear him.

When the last of his climax dwindles, McCoy finds himself slack against the couch, his leg muscles twitching and his skin flushed, and Christine casually brushing her hair out of her face. She is smiling at him, clearly pleased with her handiwork.

"Do I need to get a tricorder to make sure you're not going into cardiac arrest?" she asks as she takes off his boots followed by his pants and underwear, tossing them aside.

McCoy shakes his head. "It couldn't hurt," he says, still panting. He sees that Christine has removed her own boots and is removing her underwear. He raises a quizzical brow, realizing that his nurse - his most trusted colleague - had swallowed him. "You didn't…did you?"

"It's just protein," Christine says dismissively, propping one knee up on a cushion.

McCoy grabs her, pulling her down to him and they are lying side by side on the couch, their flesh pressed up against one another. She is laughing, even when he kisses her, tasting her sweet mouth and the saltiness of him. "Leave it to us to talk medicine during foreplay," he growls.

"Well," Christine says, propping herself up on her elbows. "It's better than baseball."

"What's wrong with baseball?"

"Nothing's wrong with baseball," she says. "I just don't care about your Atlanta Giants."

McCoy balks at her statement and swats her on her behind.

"Who used to be, many centuries past, the San Francisco Giants," Christine continues. She kisses him on the tip of his nose. "It's fine, though. We have the San Francisco Yankees."

"The Yankees!" McCoy roars. "The Yankees! Lady, have you lost your damn mind? The Yankees are awful. Just awful! Vile. Overpaid..."

Christine is laughing at him. Instead of a verbal retort, McCoy flips them over so that she is pinned underneath him. She is still laughing, splendidly in all her naked glory, her body pressed up against his and her hair sprawled out underneath her head like a halo. "Think that's funny do you?" McCoy asks as he presses his lips up against hers. He feels her nodding and giggling as their tongues dance against each other. His hand slides down her body, disappearing between the valley between her legs. McCoy hears Christine react favorably and breaks the kiss. "Woman, you're going to be the death of me."

Christine brushes a hand through his hair. "At least it will be a good death," she quips, settling her head against his bent arm. "Can we stop talking baseball? It's not doing it for me."

"Perhaps applied physics would be a better topic?" McCoy chuckles back as his fingers part her center with a gentle touch, feeling the slickness between her legs. He hums pleasantly. "By the looks of it, I think baseball is, in fact, doing it for you."

She swats him in the arm. "McCoy, I swear to god if you start talking baseball while you are two fingers deep in me, I'm going to throttle you!"

"I'm pretty sure that you won't be able to do much of anything regardless of what part of my body is in you, Nurse Chapel," McCoy counters as he leans down to kiss her. "And believe me, I intend on..."

He doesn't finish his sentence and instead lets out a surprised shout as he and Christine topple off the couch and onto the floor. McCoy feels her shaking underneath him and her hysterical laughter ringing in his ears. He shoots her an incredulous look and shakes his head. "Okay, lady, _now_ you're in trouble!"

The last thing he hears as pure lust takes over is Christine's voice uttering his name breathlessly.

* * *

It's nearly midnight and neither of them make an effort to get off the carpeted floor of McCoy's quarters. At some point, he pulled the quilt his grandma made off the couch, wrapping Christine and himself in a cocoon.

That happened well over an hour ago.

Christine is pressed against his side, her head pillowed against his shoulder and her fingers caressing the patch of chest hair on his sternum. Casting a quick glance, McCoy can see that her lashes are lowered and she's practically in a doze.

"Didn't anyone tell you that it's impolite to stare?"

Or not...

"Well," he replies. "It's incredibly difficult not to stare when there's a beautiful woman curled up next to you and it just so happens that she's naked."

Christine adjusts her head and lets out a content sigh. "Smooth, McCoy," she yawns. "Real smooth."

"It's the Southerner in me." He leans his cheek against the top of her head. He begins to touch her shoulder with his thumb, feeling her soft skin. McCoy's eyelids droop as they lay in silence and part of him wants to go to sleep like this.

Christine lifts her head and turns to see what time it is. He hears her exhale and opens his eyes to see her looking down at him pouting. "I need to get back to my quarters." She winces, shifting her body.

"Sore?" asks McCoy,

Christine shakes her hair, errant locks of hair falling over her shoulder. "Rug burn," she replies, shifting again.

McCoy sits up and immediately feels stinging that radiates from his back. He turns his head and sees Christine's mouth shaped into an 'O', looking both amused and concerned. "It's all over my back, isn't it?"

She nods, her expression unchanged. She is touching the rug burns gingerly, the nurse in her kicking in, and snorts back a fit of laughter. "_All_ over your back," she says.

McCoy rolls his eyes. "Great," he mutters as he moves his legs and feels stinging on his kneecaps. "Where do you have it?"

She shows him, kicking the quilt off of her body. The rug burn, bright pink and raw, is on her shoulders, elbows, and knees. McCoy wants to kiss each spot, but stops himself and opts to kiss Christine on her collar bone. She purrs into his ear and he can feel her smiling. "I have to go," she says regretfully.

McCoy nods in understanding, planting another kiss on her cheek before helping Christine to her feet. He puts his clothes back on, save for his boots and blue tunic, and walks a fully dressed Christine Chapel to the door. As he hands her the PADD she brought along, McCoy gently kisses her on the lips, then on the forehead. "Out with you," he whispers.

"Yes sir," Christine jibes back, earning a quick swat to her bottom. She smiles at him and kisses him on the cheek, lingering there, their cheeks pressed together. "See you in the morning."

"See you in the morning," McCoy echoes as he opens the door.

She flashes him a pleasant grin before departing, turning a corner that heads back to her quarters on one of the lower decks.

After Christine leaves, McCoy decides to take a shower before bed. The water stings his rug burn and while he could run a dermal stimulator on some of it, he is far too tired and the abrasions will be gone in a few days at most.

His eyes are drooping to the point that he has to squint to see. He walks to his bed, naked, and face plants into the mattress. A moment later, McCoy crawls under the sheets and drops his head onto one of the pillows, falling asleep as soon as his skin makes contact with the fluffy fabric.

He ends up dreaming about Christine sleeping next to him, their limbs entwined and bodies melted together, and wishes he had the nerve to ask her to stay.


	3. Chapter Three

**Chapter Three**

They have been seeing each other for a little over two months when Christine is asked to accompany a team down to the surface of a yet-to-be-named M-Class Planet in the Alpha Quadrant. It is also their first fight.

McCoy uses the term "seeing each other" loosely because neither of them has defined their relationship, nor have they bothered to approach the subject. He is also too much of a gentleman to use the term "fuck buddy".

He enjoys the sex (which, incidentally, is the best he's had in years) but also Christine's company.

McCoy already knew that she was as smart as a whip and witty as hell from their interactions in Sick Bay, but she is also well versed in sports (particularly baseball - which they bicker about constantly), loves old movies, graduated from UC Berkeley with a degree in Ancient European History before becoming a nurse, and was born on a Starfleet base in Tokyo, Japan. She's the only one in her immediate family who is in medicine, whereas both of her parents and her two older brothers are Starfleet lawyers or engineers.

He gathers from a few choice comments from Jim and Carol Marcus that she's from old - well ancient - San Franciscan money. According to his idiot friend, Christine's parents own a mansion on top of Nob Hill that is at least an entire city block. McCoy later learns that it's not an entire city block, nor is the house in Nob Hill, but the top of Russian Hill.

In turn, he tells Christine about himself during post-coital conversation. He knows that she is aware that he was married before (thanks to Jim's big fucking mouth) and to his relief, she doesn't brooch the subject. He tells her why he went into medicine, his family back in Georgia, and the comical story about how he met Jim.

Somehow their conversations always lead to more sex, which ranges from fast and furious to languid. McCoy finds that he simply cannot get enough of Christine and vice versa. He's left his weekly poker game early, feigning being too tired or too annoyed with Jim to continue on, just to go see her. He tries not to make a habit out of it and sometimes ends up sneaking in a quickie on his couch in the living room of his quarters.

They both agree that Sick Bay is neutral ground and _completely_ off limits for any personal activity. Much to McCoy's chagrin and frustration, there have been a few near-misses when flirting in his office almost went too far.

* * *

On one such occasion, McCoy had Christine back up against one of his bookcases in his office. The blinds were drawn, which wasn't unusual since the doctor liked his privacy, and his hand was in her underwear, cupping her wet sex.

He had squeezed, his fingers curling into her. Christine let out a stifled whimper and trembled against him.

"Here are our options," McCoy had told her, his voice thick with desire. He pushed his fingers in deeper.

Christine swallowed hard and nodded. "Options. What about them?"

"We could either say fuck it and have sex right now," McCoy said, moving his fingers and taking joy in hearing Christine's sharp intake of breath. "Or we could wait until later."

"I'm going to have to go with the former," she squeaked.

McCoy ran his thumb over her lower lip, licking his lips. "There's one problem though."

"Which is?"

"You're too damn loud," he growled removing his fingers from her. McCoy felt a jolt in his gut when he heard Christine moan in protest.

"Oh please," Christine snarled. "You haven't been the pinnacle of silence either!"

"I can be if there is a need," McCoy retorted, waving a finger at her.

Christine grabbed his wrist. "Wave your finger at me again and you'll regret it."

"What are _you_ going to do, Princess? Bite it..." McCoy began to stammer as Christine put his finger in her mouth, sucking on it with methodically.

Her tongue twirled over his digits and she nipped at his fingertips. McCoy realized that it's one of the two fingers he had inside her and the thought made his groin grow close to bursting as he watched her enthusiastically lick her own wetness from his skin.

When she put the second in her mouth, her hazel eyes twinkling at him, McCoy couldn't handle it any longer. He practically collapsed against her as his dick exploded in his pants. He hissed into her shoulder, his body trembling with the aftershocks of his unexpected orgasm.

"I haven't done that since I was fifteen," he groaned, embarrassed. He hears the pop of his fingers being removed from Christine's mouth.

She slapped him heartily on the shoulder and slipped away from under him with a devious grin on her lips. "You're welcome, doctor," she said as she walked towards the door. "You have an extra change of pants in your lower left drawer."

"You are in **big** trouble later," McCoy said humorlessly.

Christine curtsied in response, winking, and left him to clean up the mess she created. McCoy swore he heard her holler to a fellow nurse, "Don't go in there. McCoy slipped coffee on his pants and needs to change."

"Coffee my ass!" he growls to himself.

* * *

Despite all of the physical contact, they never spend the night together, though they have come close a few times. When conversation has ceased and a pleasant silence has taken over, McCoy and Christine find themselves dozing off in each other's arms until one of them wakes up at some god forsaken hour. They quickly scramble to get their clothes back on and with a quick kiss, they separate for the evening.

It's their way of keeping things casual and neither of them want to admit that it's failing miserably.

The night before her assignment, McCoy jolts awake to find himself in Christine's bed. It's 01:00 hours in the morning and she is curled up against him, sound asleep. Part of McCoy wants to say fuck it and go back to sleep. Against his better judgment, he gets out of bed to dress in the silence and darkness of the room. When he's done, McCoy squats down so he's eye level with Christine, who's still asleep.

She looks beautiful, even in sleep.

McCoy rouses her by blowing raspberries in the crook of her neck. He hears her groan and feels her attempting to move away from him.

"Stop," she says sleepily when he does it again.

McCoy sees that her eyes are cracked open, looking up at him in confusion. "It's late," he says in a soft voice, his thumb stroking her cheekbone.

She nods, understanding. "Mhmmm," she mutters, eyes closing.

The doctor can't help but chuckle at her. He kisses her on the forehead and bids her good night, going back to his quarters with a grin plastered on his face.

Now McCoy is watching her pack up her medical kit like a hawk. He's leaning against the corner of a cabinet, arms crossed over his chest, and doesn't want to admit that he's nervous for her.

Christine, on the other hand, is chattering away as she's packing. Instead of her usual nurse's uniform, she is in a black uniform and boots, typical of those going on terrain assignments. Her hair is in a simple braid and not a single strain is out of place.

"Should I pack a backup tricorder?" she asks, turning to McCoy.

McCoy shrugs. She raises a brow. He raises one back.

"A backup tricorder it is," she breathes, grabbing the device and putting it into her kit. She continues her work in silence before turning around to McCoy, looking annoyed. "Okay, what's the problem?"

"There is no problem," McCoy lies, earning a glare. "There is _no problem_, Chapel."

She is crossing her arms and leaning against the BioBed she's using to pack. "You are a horrible liar," she says. "All of the medical personnel has to complete a hundred hours of terrain assignments within the first year of the mission. This should not come as a surprise to you, Leonard."

"I _know_ what is required of Starfleet medical personnel," McCoy snaps, frowning. "I'm the Chief Medical Officer, for fuck's sake!"

"I am very aware of your position on board this ship," Christine hisses. "It is your job to be unbiased when it comes to your staff and to nurture their professional development while they serve under you."

McCoy feels his cheeks burning. "I know what my job entails!"

"Good for you!"

McCoy is at her side in a flash and feelings his anger rising. "I don't like the idea of you beaming down to some random planet to play toy soldiers with a second-rate team."

"Commander Spock will be there," Christine says angrily. "Therefore, your argument is invalid."

"That green hobgoblin will leave you down there to die to protect our ship and follow Starfleet regulations if he has to!"

"Leonard! Nothing is going to happen down there!"

"Are you psychic? How the hell do you know?"

Christine rolls her eyes and goes back to her pack. "You are being irrational and letting your personal feelings get in the way."

"I, most certainly, am not!"

"Oh please."

"I've been on terrain missions and they are dangerous," McCoy growls, pointing a shaking finger at Christine. "It's not a pleasure cruise for pretty girls like you!"

He barely registers the swift movement of her hand until he feels its impact and the sting of being slapped across the face. McCoy reaches for his jaw, rubbing the aching skin as he turns back to Christine, whose livid eyes are on him, shining brightly with unshed tears.

He immediately feels his chest aching with regret.

"Dr. McCoy," she says, her voice trembling, "we are done here." Christine turns around, hastily zipping up the medical pack and stomps out of the cube without another word.

He stands in the medical cube staring at the BioBed where Christine was only moments before. He wants to scream until his voice is raw, then trash the medical equipment until it's all in pieces. Instead, he doesn't move until one of his fellow doctors pokes their head in to tell him to head down to the Transporter Room.

Numbly, McCoy makes his way down and is intercepted by Jim who is gleefully excited about the planet. His friend slaps him heartily on the back in greeting and practically bouncing off the walls of the turbolift.

"Bones! This is going to be great!" Jim chirps, rocking to and from on his heels. "We get to explore a new planet and I won't make your hair turn more gray than it already is."

McCoy casts Jim a sideways glance and snorts. "My hair isn't turning gray," he snaps, foully.

"You've got two strains right here," Jim says as he leans in, touching McCoy's head.

McCoy pushes him away. "Get off me, you infant!"

"Make that three, Bones!" Jim exclaims, bouncing back over and practically putting McCoy in a headlock. "No, I was wrong - four!"

McCoy shoves him away, harder this time, and see the surprised look on Jim's face. "I said, get off me," he growls as he straightens his coat.

"Who pissed in your morning coffee?" Jim grumbles. When McCoy doesn't answer, he hears Jim say, "Are you nervous about Chapel screwing up?"

"No."

"Then what's the problem?"

"Nothing's the problem, kid. I didn't sleep well and I just want to get this over with so I can get back to work, alright!" That comes out harsher than McCoy intended.

The turbolift deposits them near the Transporter Room and they walk over in silence. McCoy's stomach is in knots when he sees Christine speaking to Spock. She is ignoring him, though McCoy knows that she realizes that he's there.

Spock excuses himself to speak with Jim, leaving Christine standing in the Transporter room on her own. McCoy makes his way over to her and sees her glaring at him with her hazel eyes as he approaches.

"Chris," he says, reaching for her arm. She jerks away from him as soon as his fingertips touch the fabric of her jacket. "Chris, please."

"Don't talk to me," she retorts in a deathly calm voice.

"Chris, stop it," McCoy scolds, guiding her over to a vacant corner of the room. "I'm sorry, okay?"

Her face is set like stone. "That's not even remotely close to an apology."

"Chris," he hisses, his anger flaring. "Please."

Christine straightens her posture and holds her ground. She is pissed at him beyond all comprehension and she wants him to know it. "Doctor McCoy, I really appreciate you coming down here to give me your seasoned advice, but it's unnecessary," she says in a cold tone. "With Commander Spock's guidance, I will be perfectly fine."

"Chris," he whispers. "Seriously…"

"I appreciate your support…_doctor_. If you'd excuse me, I need to prepare to be beamed out with my team."

The underlying meaning of her sentence is "fuck you asshole" and he knows it. McCoy feels like he's been punched in the gut as Christine mounts the pad alongside Hendorff – better known to McCoy as 'Cupcake' – leaving him alone on the floor until Jim approaches him.

Jim is speaking, but McCoy isn't paying attention. Instead, he is silently pleading with Christine to forgive him for being a jackass, but she's even not looking at him.

The room lights up and the crew is gone, leaving the remnants of light in their wake.

Jim says something else and McCoy looks at him, not quite comprehending his words. McCoy clears his throat and mutters, "I need to go. I have a lot of paperwork to sign."

He goes back to his office in Sick Bay and spends the rest of the day holed up inside.

* * *

McCoy is shaken awake by Uhura around 03:00 hours. He doesn't remember falling asleep at his desk and for a moment, he's confused by where he is until he sees Uhura's ashen face. "What is it?"

"They were attacked by an indigenous tribe that our scanners failed to pick up. We were able to beam two of them out of there before our transport signals were blocked," she explains, her voice tight with emotion.

McCoy sees her lip trembling. "Who's still down there?"

"Chapel, Hendorff and Commander Spock," she says. She puts a hand to her mouth to stifle a sob and swallows hard before continuing. "We need you on the bridge."

McCoy doesn't remember getting to the bridge, only that he's there and he can hear Christine's voice over the comm. "What happened?" he asks, his voice booming. "Why can't we beam them out?"

"I am trying, doktor," says Chekov, his voice panicked. "They are blocking our transporter signal."

McCoy turns to Jim, who is just as shaken. "Can't we sent a shuttle down?"

"We have more urgent matters," he hears Christine say over the comm.

McCoy raises a brow. "More urgent matters? How is our ability to beam you out not an urgent matter, Chapel?"

He hears retching and Chapel's irritated voice saying, "Hendorff, get back over here and help me!" He hears someone else moaning. "Hendorff!"

"Jesus fucking Christ," he hears Hendorff hiss.

"Chapel, what's going on?" McCoy asks.

"When we were running from the tribe, they launched an explosive device at us. Hendorff and I were knocked to the ground, but the commander stepped on uneven terrain - Commander, don't move, okay? He fell maybe fifteen feet, possibly twenty. I know it hurts, but you need to be still. Hendorff, get my pack. It's over there."

"Nurse, your head is bleeding."

McCoy pales and feels his blood run cold in his veins.

"It's a scalp laceration, Hendorff. That's what they do!" she snaps.

Spock moans again. McCoy can hear her whispering to him, trying to soothe his pain as Hendorff retrieves her medical pack from god knows where. "Chapel, what's wrong with the commander?"

"Compound fracture to his left ankle. I removed his boot with a laser scalpel and made a tourniquet to slow the bleeding, but he's...it's not good," he hears Christine say.

Jim is looking at him quizzically. "Compound fracture?"

"The bone broke through the skin," McCoy says grimly. He hears Uhura's sharp intake of breath and watches Jim's face turn a little green. "We need to evacuate them as soon as possible."

He hears Christine administering several hyposprays, telling Spock what each one of them is for. The Vulcan can barely form words, much less sentences, and only grunts in reply.

"Hendorff, get over here. Get behind the Commander and keep him steady. Hold his hand."

"He's bleeding everywhere!"

"You think I don't know that? Now shut up and help me!"

The bridge is suddenly filled with a blood curling scream.

"Chapel, talk to me. What's happening?" asks Jim.

"The pulse in his foot is slowing and he's going into shock. Commander listen to me. I'm going to administer a sedative."

"No," Spock protests, his voice barely above a whisper. "Nurse Chapel, I believe that would be unwise..."

"Commander," she says, her voice calm. "I need to place a protective splint around your ankle and I believe that you would prefer to be unconscious for that."

"Spock, listen to the lady," McCoy chimes in. He turns to Jim and leans in. "Jim, we need to get a shuttle down there _now_."

Jim nods in understanding and orders a team to report to Shuttle Bay immediately.

He hears Spock suppress a scream of pain before he hears the Vulcan mutter a weak, "Proceed."

He hears the hiss from the hypospray and Hendorff grunt as the Vulcan's dead weight falls against him.

"Lay him down flat," Christine orders. "Place your hand here. No...here. Let me know if you feel his pulse drop."

"Chapel," McCoy says.

"What?" she snaps as she's working on her patient.

McCoy bites his lower lip, knowing that she is stressed. "Who else is injured?"

"Hendorff and I have some abrasions and lacerations, but they are nothing serious," she reports. "Hendorff, I need you to come here and lift his leg for me."

He can hear the protective splint beep and McCoy knows that it has been activated. "How is he?"

"His vitals are holding steady, but we need to get him into surgery as soon as possible," Christine says, her voice dropping out. "Hendorff, do you see that?"

"What?"

"Other there. On top of that tree."

"That shining thing?"

"Yeah. How far do you think that is?"

Jim raises a brow. "What are you seeing?"

"Maybe a hundred yards, one-fifty tops," Hendorff replies.

"Chapel, Hendorff," Jim says.

"Lieutenant Sulu," Christine says, completely ignoring Jim. "What direction was the wind coming from in the last scan of the planet?"

Jim looks at McCoy, his face contorted with the expression he gets when he's both annoyed and confused. "What the hell does the wind have to do with anything?"

"It was coming from the North East direction according to a scan done five hours ago," Sulu replies.

"Chapel, what the hell is going on?" Jim demands.

"I think I found what's blocking the transporter signal," she says. "Hendorff, give me your rifle."

"What?"

"Give me the rifle."

"Do you even know how to use it?"

McCoy hears Christine snort in disgust. "Between you and Dr. McCoy, you both swear that girls just sit pretty and don't do much else."

McCoy's cheeks are burning with embarrassment as all eyes on the bridge turn to him. Even Jim arches a brow while grinning.

"Someone's in trouble," he singsongs.

"Shut up or I'll hypospray you into next week," McCoy threatens.

Jim holds his hands up in surrender. "Chapel, what do you plan on doing with the rifle?"

"Have you ever heard of skeet shooting, captain?" she replies. The sounds of her arming the rifle can be heard.

"It's a recreational and competitive shooting activity where one attempts to break clay disks that are being flung into the air at high speed," Sulu says before Jim can answer. Jim gives him a scathing look, to which Sulu shrugs.

"Gold star to Lieutenant Sulu," Christine says. It sounds like she's walking now.

"So you're going to shoot at the bright shiny object in the tree then?" asks Jim, shifting his weight.

Christine chuckles. "It's not as elementary as you're making it sound, captain," she replies. "It involves wind patterns, basic geometry, and a steady trigger finger."

"Chapel, if you make this shot, you can have my seat at next week's poker game," Hendorff says in disbelief.

Christine snorts. "Your words to God's ear, my friend."

McCoy listens to Christine count her paces as she walks, before she stops moving. "Chapel? Everything okay?"

"Be quiet," she retorts.

Jim inquires about the shuttle and learns that they will be ready to leave in five minutes. He shakes his head and looks at McCoy, probably noticing how pale the doctor is. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," he mummers back.

As Jim is about to make a snide comment, they hear the laser rifle going off once, then twice. McCoy jumps at the sound.

"Keptin," Chekov exclaims, "our transporter signal is back online!"

McCoy lets out the breath that he didn't realize he was holding and sighs with relief. The rest of the bridge is cheering.

"Beam them out now!" Jim demands, grabbing McCoy by the sleeve of his uniform. "Come on."

As they run to the transporter room, McCoy pages for a medical team to meet them there and for an OR to prep for surgery. They arrive in the Transporter Room just as Spock, Chapel, and Hendorff are beamed in. McCoy and Jim skid to a halt when they see dark stains on Hendorff and Chapel's clothing before they look down at Spock, who is deathly pale and unconscious.

"Oh shit," Jim moans upon seeing the compound fracture.

It is a mess of green blood, bone, and tissue surrounded by the transparent protective splint. McCoy has seen his fair share of breaks like this, but it still makes him wince. He pushes past Jim and rushes to the Transporter platform as the medical team follows behind him.

Dropping to his knees, McCoy gets to work to stabilize Spock before moving him to the awaiting anti-grav lift. He realizes that Christine is next to him, applying hyposprays to the Vulcan.

Green blood aside, her uniform is mess. Her jacket is missing and McCoy suspects that she ripped off one of the sleeves to create the makeshift tourniquet that is cut from Spock's leg. There are drying clots of the Vulcan's blood at the tip of her disheveled braid and on her chin. As she reaches across Spock for another hypospray, McCoy sees dried blood covering her hands, which are trembling.

That blood is not green, but red. He raises his eyes to see the head wound that Hendorff mentioned over the comm. It's still bleeding.

As another nurse is about her hand her the hypospray, McCoy gently grabs Christine's wrist. Their eyes meet and he can see how shaken she is. Her eyes are bright and her skin is paler than usual.

"Chris," he says softly. "It's okay, we've got this."

Christine bites her lower lip and nods, her eyes still on him.

Out of nowhere, Jim is helping Christine to her feet and leading her away from the chaos. When the captain wants to be, he can be quite calming. McCoy glances over to see him speaking to Christine in a low voice as she stares back at McCoy.

It happens so quickly that McCoy barely has time to react. He sees Christine's eyes roll back into her head and her body falling towards the ground. He yells out incoherently, his arm reaching out, pointing at her.

Jim catches her before Christine hits the ground and lifts her against his chest. Her head to pressed into the crook of his neck and she is unconscious.

Fear threatens to swallow him whole. "Get her down to Sick Bay now!" McCoy yells.

Jim nods his head and settles Christine's dead weight against him as he rises to his feet. She seems so small against Jim's broad chest.

McCoy watches as Hendorff follows after the captain, offering assistance as they disappear around the corner.

McCoy feels the sting of tears in his eyes and he swallows roughly. More than anything, he wants to take her out of Jim's arms and carry her down there himself, but Spock needs him. He closes his eyes and composes himself before continuing his work.

He barely remembers leaving the Transporter Room and arriving in Sick Bay. McCoy sees Christine laying in a BioBed, being examined by Dr. Strauss, a woman who is several years older than he, but very knowledgeable. Christine is awake, albeit dazed. She is still pale, but there is color in her cheeks and she is answering the doctor's questions.

Jim is hovering in the background, his watchful eyes on the nurse. It's a small comfort to know that Christine is in good hands as he scrubs in for surgery.

* * *

It's nearly six in the morning when McCoy comes out of the OR. His scrubs are covered in green blood and sweat and all he wants to do is shower and check on Christine, though not in that order. He rips off his mask as he walks alongside Spock's BioBed.

The Vulcan is still unconscious from anesthesia, but his vitals are strong and stable. He'll need to be on bed rest until the osteoblast therapy cycle is completed with additional week and a half off duty, but Spock will make a full recovery thanks to Christine's intervention.

Once Spock is settled into a private room, McCoy asks a nurse to notify Uhura and the captain that the Vulcan is out of surgery.

"How's Chapel?" he asks as he signs off on Spock's chart and hands it back to the nurse.

"Dr. Strauss released her," the nurse answers.

McCoy raises a brow. "Released her? When?"

"About an hour ago," the nurse says. "She's on bed rest until a follow-up appointment next week. I think she had a grade two concussion on the Cantu scale, but it's Chapel. She'll be fine." She looks at McCoy and wrinkles her nose at his current state. "You, on the other hand, could use a shower and a drink."

McCoy presses his lips together and nods in agreement. "Not necessarily in that order," he mutters.

"We have it from here, doctor. Go get some rest," the nurse says kindly. "You've earned it."

For once, he doesn't need to be told twice to leave. He uses the showers in the Sick Bay to clean himself up before changing back into his uniform. McCoy doesn't bother shaving the stubble on his face. He is too emotionally and physically drained and all he wants to do is see Christine, just to make sure she's in one piece.

The thought stops McCoy as he's about to pull his tunic over his undershirt. Unshed tears sting his eyes more once and he swallows the lump building in his throat.

McCoy doesn't care if she's still angry with him. So long as he can see her, he will be able to rest easier.

He has to see her.

He finishes dressing and makes a quick stop at his office to turn off the lights when he sees a note on top of his PADD. It's handwritten and in Christine's neat script.

Written on the piece of paper is a set of numbers and he realizes it's the passcode to the door of her quarters. McCoy knows that Christine is aware that he could easily use his medical override to enter.

It's her way of saying all is forgiven.

McCoy stops by his own quarters to change into fresh clothing, sweatpants and a t-shirt, and rushes over to Christine's quarters. On the way over, he decides that unless she tells him to leave McCoy is going to stay there as long as she needs him.

He finds himself in front of her door, his eyes darting from left to right to make sure no one sees him entering in the access code. The door opens to Christine's quarters. The lights are low and it's quiet. McCoy steps inside, letting the door shut behind him.

While his quarters is prone to turning into a chaotic mess, Christine's is usually the opposite. McCoy spies her uniform – torn, tattered, and stained – unceremoniously dumped by the latrine door next to her boots that are caked with dirt.

He raises a brow and heads for her bedroom. He hears whimpering as he approaches the threshold and walks faster. "Chris?" McCoy calls as he comes to the doorway. He's about to say something else, but the words die on his tongue.

Sitting on the bed is Christine, wrapped in a towel, and crying – no, sobbing. Her shoulders are shaking and her long hair has fallen in front of her face.

"Hey," he says, rushing up to her, dropping down to his knees. McCoy grabs her hands and takes them into his, stroking the skin. He sees her face, her cheeks raw and her watery eyes staring at him. "It's okay. You're okay."

She opens her mouth, but only a sob comes out. More tears spill down her cheeks and Christine bows her head, her entire body trembling.

McCoy hushes her, reaching up to brush away newly fallen tears. "Chris, it's over. You were **amazing** down there. You made Hendorff look like the idiot he is, which I'm sure will make Jim really happy," he says, trying to calm her.

She's shaking her head. "I can't get it off," she stammers.

"What can't you get off?" McCoy asks, brushing her damp hair off her face. He sees the laceration, which is just a thin now with an ugly bruise surrounding it, and frowns. "Sweetheart, what can't you get off?"

She's looking down at her hands, which are enveloped in his own. That's when he notices the green flecks of blood around her fingernails, a harsh reminder of the events from hours past.

"Shit," he whispers, realizing that it's Spock's blood. He feels Christine's body shaking with an sob and he looks up at her. "Hey. Hey, don't cry." He raises, kissing one of her cheeks. He can taste her tears and feel the warmth of her cheeks. The towel wrapped around her has grown damp and her teeth are starting to chatter. McCoy takes off his t-shirt for her to wear. It will probably look like a tent on her petite frame, but at least it is dry.

Christine is submissive and allows him to dress her. It's strange to be putting clothes on her, rather than pulling them off as he normally does, and there is something tender about it that McCoy can't put his finger on.

He takes the towel off when he settles his shirt on her body. "I'll be right back," he whispers, pressing his lips to her forehead. She nods and he hears her sniffle.

He goes to the latrine, grabbing a washcloth, which he runs under warm water, and soap. McCoy rushes back to Christine's bedroom and kneels in front of her. He lathers up the washcloth with soap and begins to gently wash her hands, removing the flecks of blood.

When the first hand is done, he kisses her knuckles and strokes her skin with his thumb. "See," he says softly, "it comes off eventually." He looks up at Christine and sees her nodding, her eyes still brimming with tears.

McCoy washes the other hand in silence and goes to put the washcloth and soap back in the latrine. When he comes back, Christine is toying with the hem of his t-shirt. She has stopped crying and seems calmer than she was when he first arrived.

"You okay?" he asks as he sits down next to her. She nods, her hair falling over her shoulder and blocking her face from view. McCoy reaches out and tucks her air dried hair behind her ear. She smiles timidly and glances up at him, her eyes watering again.

As new tears fall down her cheeks, he hears her ask, "Please stay."

McCoy nods, pulling her to his chest. She is warm and whole and he lets out a sigh of relief. He feels her breath against his bare chest and pulls her closer. "I'm sorry," McCoy whispers into her hair.

"I'm sorry, too," she whispers back, easing into his arms.

"By the way, you have a mean backhand," McCoy says, chuckling.

Christine snorts. "That's nothing. You should see me when I'm really mad." She is looking at him and wrinkling her nose.

"I'll keep that in mind for our next fight," McCoy jokes. He becomes serious. "How's your head? Any headaches? Nausea?"

Christine shakes her head. "Dr. Strauss gave me something for both," she replies. "Now I just want to sleep."

"You just read my mind," McCoy says, rising to his feet and pulling back the covers on Christine's bed. He watches her crawl onto the mattress, before flopping down.

"How is the commander?"

"He still has his foot, thanks to you," McCoy replies as he lays down next to her, pulling the covers over the both of them. "You were amazing. I am really proud of you, Chris."

She flushes at the compliment and scoots over to cuddle herself to him. "Is Hendorff pissed that I stole his seat at the poker game?"

"He'll get over it," McCoy chuckles. "Where did you learn to shoot like that? I thought you grew up in San Francisco."

"My grandparents had a house in the Catskills, and my grandpa would take my brothers and I out to shoot," she says sleepily. "Also, Carol and I would go to the range a few times a month while we were at the Academy."

"You are full of surprises, Nurse Chapel," he mutters. "Remind me to never piss you off while you're armed."

She laughs at this and drapes her arm over his stomach, planting a kiss on his shoulder.

"I deserved that slap," he admits, glancing down at her.

"Oh, I know you did."

"Thanks," he says sarcastically, closing his eyes. "You should have gone into weapons."

"I thought about it, but I'd rather meet cute doctors than meatheads like Hendorff."

"Any cute doctors in particular?" he asks, raising a brow.

Christine shrugs against him. "Only one," she yawns. "And he's really good in bed."

He grins sleepily. "A lethal combination if I do say so myself." He hears Christine mumble an incoherent response and chuckles. "I'll be here when you wake up."

"I'm counting on it," Christine says before she falls completely asleep.

It doesn't take McCoy long to follow her into a comfortable oblivion.


	4. Chapter Four

**Chapter Four**

It's been three days since Christine's misadventure on the planet that he is now referring to as Planet Shitshow and McCoy hasn't spent a single night in his quarters.

Sure, he's gone by there to grab a change of clothing or load movies onto his PADD, but at most he's in there for an hour tops before he goes back to Christine's.

The doctor in him wants to make sure that she's not having any complications even if she isn't his patient.

The lover in him just wants to be there.

He's wearing a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt as he walks over with his medical kit that is loaded with the medication Dr. Strauss prescribed Christine to help with the nausea and headaches. He offered to take them over as he was going to meet the captain at the gym and it's on the way.

Jim had been complaining that he hadn't seen McCoy in days and with reluctance, McCoy agreed to go a few rounds on the sparring mat and have a few beers with his friend before they went to the poker game at Sulu's quarters.

McCoy punches in his medical override code when he gets to Christine's, despite knowing her door code. He doesn't want to attract unwanted attention, especially with Jim breathing down his neck.

He walks into her quarters and heads to the bedroom where Christine is trying to nap. Her face is etched in tight lines of discomfort. She immediately opens her eyes when she hears him coming in, despite the effort McCoy made to be quiet.

"Hey," she says weakly, shifting her position in the bed. Her hair is in a messy braid, strains of hair coming undone from sleeping on it, and she looks exhausted for lack of a better word. Between the constant nausea and headaches, Christine has had a hard time sleeping and it was only today that she relented and asked for medication.

McCoy sees that she is still wearing his t-shirt, which he has to admit looks much more appealing on her. "Hey yourself," he replies, holding up his medical kit. "I brought you something."

She sighs with relief and swallows roughly. "Next time I get a concussion, remind me not to be so damn stubborn."

He chuckles as he sits down next to her. "Didn't you know," he jibes, "doctors and nurses make the worst patients?" McCoy hears her groan in agreement as he takes out the hyposprays prescribed by Strauss.

"God," she hisses through her teeth, squeaking her eyes shut.

McCoy looks over at her and despite how awful she's feeling, she looks positively radiate to him. "Your color is coming back," he notes, loading the device in his hand.

"Is my dignity?" she asks, opening her eyes a crack and giving him a flirtatious smirk.

McCoy shrugs and is immediately nudged in his lower back by one of her blanket covered feet. "Come on, up with you," he orders. He watches Christine push herself upright, noting the motion has made her look a little green. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," she says a little too harshly. She looks up at him through her dark lashes. "Let's just get this over with."

"That's the spirit," McCoy replies, placing the hypospray over her carotid artery. He injects her and grimaces when Christine flinches.

Christine rubs the injection site on her neck. "That is barbaric," she whines.

"Now you sound like Jim," McCoy retorts as he's loading up another hypospray. "This one is Zofran."

"My new best friend!" Christine says weakly.

McCoy smirks at the comment and sympathizes with her. "Yeah, yeah," he says. He's about to say something else when he sees Christine's hand fly to her mouth. Before he can react, Christine is hunched over his lap…

…and she's thrown up on him.

As a trauma surgeon, McCoy has been thrown up on many times. As Jim's best friend, he's had his fair share of Jim's vomit ending up somewhere on his person.

It never fazes him. It's just bodily fluids and these things happen.

"Oh god," he hears Christine squeak. She's looking at him, wondering what he'll do. "Leonard…"

"It's fine," McCoy says, grabbing his gym towel and mopping up the mess. It's not a lot and he's not surprised. Christine had complained to him that the nausea had been so bad that she didn't want to eat anything. Luckily, she kept herself hydrated.

"I'm so sorry."

"Really it's fine," he says, glancing up at her. She looks like she's about to cry. McCoy is about to say something else when his comm beeps. He grabs it, flipping it open.

"Where the _hell_ are you?" It's Jim and he sounds annoyed.

McCoy rolls his eyes. "I had to take care of something," he snaps.

"Take care of something?" Jim hisses. "I've been standing outside your quarters for the last five minutes! I booked the mat for half past and we're going to be late!"

"Well, I'm not in my quarters, you idiot," McCoy barks.

"Then where the hell are you?"

"I'm at Chapel's."

"Why?"

McCoy rolls his eyes again. "I was administering medication because, you know, I'm a _doctor_." He hears Jim snort. "Actually, can you do me a favor?"

Fifteen minutes and a several hyposprays later, Jim shows up at Christine's quarters with a duffle bag and a sour look on his face. His expression changes to one of shock and disgust when he sees McCoy's current state.

"She did not!" Jim stutters, handing the duffle bag to McCoy as he comes in. "Wow."

McCoy shoots him a dirty look. "Just shut up," he says. He points a finger at his friend, adding, "And don't act like you've never done the same thing."

"I've just never done it sober," Jim quips.

"I heard that!" Christine bellows from her bedroom.

Jim leans back, grinning, "I meant you to, Chapel."

"Jerk!"

"Shrew!"

"Reckless schmuck!"

McCoy watches Jim stomp over to the doorway leading to Christine's bedroom and hears him say, "That is _Captain Reckless Schmuck_ to you!"

"Okay," McCoy shouts, grabbing Jim by the bicep and leading him to the couch. "You're both done. Now if you'd excuse me, I'm going to change and you, kid, are going to let Carol in when she gets here." He looks up and sees Christine sitting upright in her bed, clearly fuming. "And _you_ are going to rest."

He watches Christine flop onto her back like a child and wants to laugh, but decides against it.

She is embarrassed, irritated, and feeling all kinds of awful.

As he goes into her latrine, McCoy shoots Jim a meaningful look, hoping that they will refrain from a verbal sparring match while he's changing.

To his relief, they do. He hears Jim let Carol Marcus in and her English accent calling out to Christine, who replies. McCoy drops his soiled clothes into Christine's hamper to be cleaned later and goes back out. Jim is standing in the doorway and from the sounds of it; Carol is in Christine's bedroom.

"Are you children behaving?" McCoy asks as he approaches. Jim casts an annoyed glance at him, but says nothing. McCoy squeezes past him and sees Carol sitting on the edge of the bed, holding a bag. Christine has propped herself up with pillows and seems happy that her friend is there. "Carol."

She turns, her blonde bob swinging, and smiles at him. "Doctor," she says pleasantly. "I was just telling Chris that I brought her favorites."

"Favorites?" McCoy inquires, surprised.

"Whenever one of us had too much to drink during our time at the Academy, these were our fail-safe go-to items," Carol explains as she starts removing the contents of the bag: a canister of what looks like to be ginger ale, another canister of soup, followed by something that may or may not be macaroni and cheese with chili, saltine crackers, a PADD (to watch "girly movies" as Carol says), and a heating pad. "Do you think Dr. Strauss will mind?" asked Carol as she sets down the heating pad.

"Is that chili mac?" asks Jim, stepping closer. He means to commandeer it by the looks of the expression on his face.

McCoy grabs him and pulls him back. "I'm sure it will be fine," McCoy replies. "I would probably recommend sticking to soup and crackers for the time being."

"I can take –" Jim begins to say before McCoy cuts him off with a raised brow.

McCoy turns his glaze to Christine. "Is the medicine helping?" he asks, watching her nod. "Good. I'll come by later to check on you and report back to Strauss." He grabs Jim and leads him out of Christine's quarters, heading towards the gym.

Once they are there, they sparring for an hour before Jim brings up Christine.

"So you're going back there to check on her even though she's technically Strauss's patient?" Jim inquires.

McCoy swings his staff at Jim, narrowly missing his friend's arm. "What of it?"

"I mean…isn't that weird?" Jim says, swinging back at McCoy.

McCoy rolls his eyes. "She is my head nurse," he replies, ducking from Jim's staff. "Watch it!"

"Sorry," Jim says, wiping his brow. "So, she's your head nurse. Big deal."

"I just want to make sure she's receiving optimal care."

"So you let her puke on you?"

McCoy swings, hitting Jim in the lower back and feeling oddly satisfied. "That," he snaps, "was an accident."

"Jesus that hurt!" Jim hisses.

"That was the point," McCoy rebuts, hoping that Jim will cease with his line of questioning.

They begin to spar again.

"Do you like her or something?" asks Jim.

"Of course I like her," McCoy replies. "She is one of my most trusted colleagues!"

"No Bones. Not like that," Jim quips, swinging again, his staff hitting McCoy's. "Do you _like_ her?"

McCoy stops moving, staring at Jim, and feels his friend's staff hitting him square in the stomach. He doubles over, wheezing and stumbling. "Kid…"

"I mean, when she isn't acting like a complete bitch, she's pretty cute," Jim says haphazardly.

McCoy feels his cheeks burning in annoyance.

"But you have no chance," Jim continues. "She's too pretty for you."

In a flash, McCoy tackles Jim, taking him down at his midsection, slamming the captain onto the mat. He hears Jim groan and when McCoy looks up, he can tell that he's knocked the wind out of his friend. McCoy is hovering over Jim, watching him sucking in a breath.

All he wants to do is tell Jim Kirk that Christine is not a bitch and he's been seeing her for the past two months. McCoy also wants to tell him his head nurse has been calling out his name – not Jim's – in the throes of passion and they sleep together quite often.

He's the one who gets to hold her down in bed while she loses herself in the orgasms _he's giving her_. He gets to taste her, run his mouth over her body, kiss her lips…

McCoy wants to gloat that after he and Christine slept together for the first time whilst sober, she said in all seriousness and completely breathless, "So that's what it's like to sleep with a man."

So Jim may think Christine Chapel is probably too pretty, too beautiful for the likes of Leonard McCoy, but somehow the surly doctor got the girl.

More than anything, he wants to rub it in Jim's face.

But McCoy knows he won't do these things because he's not a jerk. Instead, he growls, "Don't talk about my head nurse that way," before walking off the mat to towel off.

* * *

It's late when he comes by Christine's quarters.

McCoy faintly smells of those awful cigars Chekov brought on board and bourbon. His buzz wore off a while ago, around the time that Scotty lost miserably to Sulu during the last round of poker.

He punches in his medical override code and the door opens. McCoy comes in just as Carol pokes her head out of Christine's bedroom.

_Shit_, he thinks. He had forgotten that she was over. "I was just…I was just coming to check on her."

Carol looks amused, but doesn't say anything. Instead, she gestures towards the bedroom.

McCoy bites his lip as he enters the dimly lit room. He can make out her sleeping form under the blankets.

Christine is curled up on her side, facing him. Her hair is still damp from a recently shower and is woven into a loose braid, loose tendrils of hair framing against her face as she sleeps.

He wants to touch her hair or press his lips against her forehead, but Carol is only a few feet away. Instead, McCoy caresses her shoulder, giving it a squeeze before he going back into the other room.

"How is she?" asks Carol.

McCoy nods. "The medication is doing her some good," he replies, leaning against the wall. He notices that she is packing up to leave. "I thought you were going to stay over."

"I thought you were," Carol replies as she finishes zipping up her bag.

McCoy feels the blood draining from his face while his cheeks burn. "She told you? About us?"

Carol shrugs. "I guessed," she admits. "Also, when I was putting her t-shirt in the hamper I noticed that it was the same size as the soiled one you left behind." Her blue eyes on McCoy, watching his reaction and making him even more nervous. "She's also one of my best friends, doctor. We were roommates at the Academy and it's safe to assume I know her pretty well."

McCoy doesn't know what that exactly means, but he's sure that despite the physical evidence, Carol didn't need it to realize when her friend was seeing someone. "Oh," he replies dumbly.

"If you're concerned about me telling anyone," she says, lifting the bag up, "you needn't worry." She is smiling at him.

"Thanks," he says.

Carol patted him on the shoulder as she goes to leave. McCoy is deep in thought when he hears her voice again.

"And doctor," she says, turning towards him.

He looks up.

"I like seeing Chris happy," she tells him, "especially with someone like you."

McCoy smirks. "Well, I'm trying."

"You're doing a good job of it," Carol replies as the door opens. She waves her hand and leaves.

McCoy goes back into Christine's bedroom and strips off his clothing until he's in his underwear. He crawls under the covers and curls up next to Christine, who remains oblivious to the world around her, propped himself up on his elbow.

He watches as Christine unconsciously scoots back into him and lets out a content sigh. McCoy can't help but grin to himself. With steady fingers he brushes away a lock of hair, tucking it behind her ear. McCoy leans down, his mouth next to her ear and kisses her ear lobe.

Christine moves, but doesn't rouse.

"Hey," he whispers. "I'm not any good at this, but I just wanted to tell you that you make me happy too." McCoy finds himself waiting for Christine's response that never comes. "You make me really happy and I'm sorry that I can't tell you to your face. Well, not yet anyway. But I just wanted you to know that I…"

McCoy stops himself and shakes his head, the words falling silent on his tongue. _It's the bourbon_, he thinks to himself as his lips graze Christine's temple. "See you in the morning, sweetheart," he whispers before commanding the lights to zero percent.


	5. Chapter Five

**Chapter Five**

Leonard McCoy wasn't always a commitment phobic. Hell, he had been married for crying out loud! That alone was the pinnacle for being able to commitment to a single person for forever and ever.

When he said those vows in front of family and friends on a hot Autumn day in Georgia, McCoy had meant every single word. He used to be believe in forever and ever. He had seen his parent's happy marriage as well as the marriage of his grandparents.

He wanted that happiness so badly and he truly believed that he had found it with Jocelyn.

Unfortunately Jocelyn didn't see it that way.

He found out that she had been cheating on him with his medical school classmate and close friend, Ron, when McCoy came home one evening to find Jocelyn sitting at the kitchen table, her wedding band and engagement ring on the table.

Yes, marriage was work and they had their share of problems, but McCoy didn't think it was _that_ bad. Looking back, they may have been able to work through their issues, but one can't dwell on what could have happened versus what did.

Sitting across the table from Jocelyn in mute horror, McCoy listened to her tell him that she was through with the marriage, through with him and his inability to be affectionate, and she had found someone else that gave her what she craved – _attention_.

Her husband was always too busy with medical school, his research, his rotations...he was always too busy for her.

Hearing from Jocelyn that she had been sleeping with someone else – no, even worse, having a relationship – felt like a swift kick to his gut and having his heart ripped out at the same time.

She was so shockingly cavalier about it that looking back it made McCoy's blood boil.

McCoy just sat in the chair, wearing his scrubs, a five o'clock shadow and a gobsmacked look on his way. He couldn't speak. He could barely look at her. Hell, he was wondering how he was still breathing.

"Leonard?" she says, sounding annoyed that she's not getting the desired reaction out of him - or any reaction for that matter. "Are you even listening to me?"

McCoy looks up, his eyes pooling with unshed tears. "I don't…I don't understand," he whispers.

She gives him a condescending look. "That's the problem," she replies harshly.

"Who is it?" he asks after a moment.

Jocelyn sits up straight, her expression going from discerning to ice cold. "Ron."

McCoy wonders if this is what dying feels like.

He moves out of the house – his grandmother's house that she willed to him – the following day. He has his clothes, some keepsakes, and not much else. All of his belongings fit in three small boxes, plus a suitcase.

His dad helps him obtain a lawyer and his mother finds a furnished apartment near the hospital. McCoy goes through the motions in order to keep himself going.

Sleep. Eat. Shower. Work. Breathe. Repeat.

In all honesty, he's a the living and breathing embodiment of a zombie.

He loses a good ten pounds and he feels like he's aged twenty years. When he does sleep, it's in short spurts, but he's used to it because he's a doctor.

He's in his lawyer's office two months later, discussing alimony. McCoy refuses to give the bitch a dime.

"She's the one who cheated," he snarls.

The lawyer, a nice man of middling years, shrugs sadly. He takes off his glasses, cleaning them on his sweater. "The State of Georgia is a no-fault state, Dr. McCoy."

McCoy feels his lips trembling in anger. As much as he loves Jocelyn, he hates her too. She is doing this on purpose, one last chance to goad him before they divorced and go their separate ways.

"There is a bargaining chip in our favor," the lawyer says.

McCoy is all ears.

"The house," says the lawyer, putting his glasses back on.

McCoy raises a brow. "The house?" he says harshly. "My grandmother's house? That's my house! She's not getting my house!"

"Actually," the lawyer says, picking up his PADD. "The house's titled to the both of you. She is willing to buy you out for a reasonable price, given the circumstances."

"And how the hell is she going do that?" McCoy roars, before he realizes the answer.

Ron.

That twisted little bastard. At that very moment, McCoy decided that they deserved each other.

"It's in a good location, near the right schools…"

"Excuse me?" McCoy says. "Schools? Why is she worried about schools?"

The lawyer gives him a sympathetic look and McCoy feels his world closing in around him.

"She's," he whispers, the tears coming. In his heart of hearts, he doesn't want to say the words. "She's pregnant?"

The lawyer pats him on the shoulder, squeezing the joints through McCoy's button down shirt. "Leonard," he says in a soft voice. There is pity in it. "You will get through this."

In the end, Jocelyn and Ron buy him out of his grandmother's house and McCoy somehow ends up joining Starfleet with a sizeable amount of money in his savings account.

On the shuttle from Riverside, he meets a cocky kid named Jim Kirk and the rest is history. They become fast friends, though McCoy keeps the youngster at a safe distance.

He knows that Jim senses the walls that the doctor has put up around himself and respects them. Aside from the snide comment about his ex-wife taking the entire planet in the divorce, Jim does not pry into McCoy's life pre-Starfleet.

That ends one evening, about nine months later. It's a cold evening in San Francisco and there is a thick mist hanging over the city. McCoy has just come back from his shift at Starfleet Medical and he's bone tired. Luckily, there is a long weekend and by the grace of God, he's off.

As he's just sent an email to Jim to see if the kid wants to meet for drinks and burgers, McCoy's comm beeps. It's a friend from his old hospital, calling to see if the rumors were true.

McCoy assures him that they are and tells the friend that he's settling into San Francisco quite nicely. They make idle chit-chat about their lives and all seems fine until the friends says, "Did you hear about Jocelyn?"

McCoy rolls his eyes and shakes his head, feeling his temples starting to throb. "No," he says roughly. "I didn't."

"She and Ron had the baby. A little girl," the friend prattles on. "I think her name is Juliana. Something with a J."

McCoy finds that he can't breathe. His throat is constricting and his chest is aching. The blood is roaring in his ears and he swears that his vision is tunneling to black.

_No_, he thinks to himself, _this is what dying feels like_. He doesn't remember ending the communique, nor throwing the device against the wall.

Honestly, he doesn't remember much of anything aside from grabbing the handle of Jack Daniels that Jim had bought a few weeks ago and opening it up.

McCoy has never had Jim's parchment for benders. Usually, he's the one making sure that the kid doesn't get himself into trouble (it's a hit or miss, but luckily Jim hasn't been arrested…_yet_). There's a first time for everything and McCoy finds himself downing the contents of the bottle over the course of two hours.

He comes back to himself – as much as he can in his state – when the bottle slips out of his fingers and shatters on the floor of his dorm. McCoy looks down at the glass, which has cut the tops of his bare feet, numbly and uncomprehending what just happened.

The chime to his front door is ringing. McCoy blinks slowly, staring at the door. "Jocelyn?" he whispers, stepping over the glass, hearing it crunch under the soles of his feet. He can hardly feel the shards cutting into his skin.

When McCoy answers the door, he finds Jim standing out with a smug look on his face before his mouth drops open in utter surprise.

"Oh hey," McCoy slurs, stumbling out of the way to let Jim in.

Jim's blue eyes are surveying the scene. "Did you start the party without me?" he asks, his voice cracking with confusion.

"Sorry," McCoy says in a mock apology. He accidentally slams the door front, making the both of them jump.

"Whoops."

Jim is taking off his jacket, his brows furrowed into a frown. "Bones, what's going on here?" He kneels down, picking up a jagged piece of broken glass and sees blood on the edgings, red and vivid. Jim's eyes go to McCoy's feet. "Bones…"

"I just had an accident is all," McCoy slurs, stumbling over to the couch and dumping himself onto one of the cushions. His head, suddenly too heavy, lulls back and he's looking at the ceiling. "Are those cracks?"

Jim is hovering over him, his vivid blue eyes widening. He may be concerned, but his face is becoming blurry.

"Hey kid," McCoy says without missing a beat. "Are those cracks? In the ceiling."

Jim makes a face before composing himself. "Bones," he says in all seriousness, "how much did you have to drink?"

"A bit."

"Be more specific."

"A lot."

"Okay…"

"Most of the bottle," McCoy admits before chuckling drunkenly, ignoring the look of horror on Jim's face. "But I left some for you!"

Jim disappears from his line of sight. McCoy can hear him in the kitchenette, shuffling through cabinets. "Why did you drink the bottle without me?" Jim asks. He sounds panicked.

"It's been one of those days," McCoy replies. "The room is kind of blurry."

"Just," Jim starts, "keep talking, okay?"

"What are you doing in there?"

"Don't worry about it."

"Just don't burn down the building," McCoy whispers as his eyelids droop. He is shaken awake by Jim who is holding a salt shaker and a glass of water. "The pots are next to the stove, you idiot."

Without a word, Jim yanks McCoy to his feet and drags him to the bathroom, avoiding the shattered glass on the floor. They squeeze into the small bathroom, where Jim pushes McCoy to the tiled floor in front of the toilet.

McCoy observes Jim, watching his friend's hands shake as he dumps the half contents of the salt shaker into the glass of water. "What are you doing?" McCoy asks, but he's not even sure if the words are coming out in English.

"Okay," Jim says, dropping to his knees next to McCoy. He lifts the toilet seat up. "Drink," he orders, pouring the contents of the glass into McCoy's mouth.

Most of it ends up on his shirt, but enough makes it down McCoy's throat to roil his stomach. "What is that?"

Jim is filling the glass back up with water and salt. "Shut up and keep drinking," is all he says.

As Jim is about to force him to drink the mixture again, McCoy gags and scrambles for the toilet basin. He vomits so violently that he's gasping for air. The contents of his stomach splash around in the toilet, turning the clear water a murky brown.

Another wave assaults him and McCoy feels tears in his eyes as he vomits again. He moans before his stomach expels another round of bile.

"Shh," he hears Jim say. "It's okay, Bones. I got you." Jim's hand is on his back, rubbing it in slow and comforting circles. "You're okay."

McCoy keeps vomiting until his stomach muscles ache. Jim feeds him the mixture again and they repeat the cycle, only this time McCoy finds himself sobbing between retching into the toilet.

Tears are pouring down his cheeks, mixing with sweat, and he can't stop them. He doesn't remember what he says to Jim, only that his friend is there and taking care of him.

And his heart broken sobs are filling the bathroom.

"Shh," Jim says, running a hand through McCoy's sweat leaden hair. He wraps an arm around his friend's shoulders, pulling McCoy to him for support. Jim props his chin up on the top of the doctor's head and McCoy swears he can feel Jim's chin trembling. "You're going to be okay, Bones."

Hours pass and McCoy finds his head in Jim's lap as he lays on the floor of the bathroom. Jim is against the wall, stroking McCoy's hair idly. McCoy's feet are bandaged, having been cleared of glass and blood by his friend.

At some point, Jim ran a washcloth under the sink and placed it on the back of his friend's neck. It's warmer than it was, but significantly cooler than McCoy's skin, which feels like it's on fire. McCoy closes his eyes, feeling tears seeping out from under his lids.

"She had the baby," he says roughly. He can feel Jim shifting and McCoy opens his eyes, looking up at his friend, not giving two shits if Jim saw him cry. "Jocelyn had their baby."

"You never told me that she was pregnant," Jim replies softly.

"She and Ron had the baby and they're going to raise it in my grandmother's house," McCoy whispers, feeling the sobs coming back. He chokes on one, clutching Jim's pant leg as tightly as he can. "That's how I found out. She wanted to buy me out of the house."

Jim is silent. When McCoy looks up, he sees tears in Jim's eyes and his lower lip quivering.

"Jim, what kind of person does that?" McCoy asks. "What kind of person does to that to someone they love?" He turns his head, looking at the shower as he weeps. "What did I do wrong?"

"You did absolutely nothing wrong," Jim counters, his voice rough. He is looking down at McCoy. "You did nothing wrong, okay? She's an awful human being. Just…_horrible_."

McCoy nods, understanding. "We were supposed to raise a family in that house, Jim. That's what my grandma wanted. That's what I wanted, Jim. I wanted to…" He's overcome by sobs again.

Jim soothes him as best as he can until his sobs cease and McCoy is hiccupping.

"She took everything from me," McCoy whispers to no one in particular, afraid to look his friend in the eye.

Jim shifts underneath him, squeezing McCoy's shoulder in comfort. "You still have your bones," he replies back.

Silence passes between them before the both of the burst out laughing.

McCoy winces in pain, his head and the rest of his body aching. "I'm never drinking again," he groans as Jim helps him to his feet. "Never." He repeats as Jim peels off his t-shirt.

"You say that now," Jim replies as he undresses his friend and shoves him into the shower. "But give it a month. You'll be back in fine form."

After a shower, some hyposprays to ensure that McCoy won't need to go to Starfleet Medical, and several pieces of plain toast, Jim puts McCoy to bed. He sits on the edge, rubbing his friend's back as he drifts off to sleep.

"I'll be here when you wake up," Jim murmurs. It's the last thing McCoy hears before his world goes dark.

He doesn't remember much, except that Jim is still there and he's taking care of him. He vaguely recalls Jim coaxing him to consume food and drink or Jim helping him to the bathroom. Those memories don't last long. As soon as McCoy is back in bed, he's out like a light.

He wakes up on Sunday morning, sunlight streaming into his bedroom through the blinds on the windows. His head aches something fierce and his throat is sore. There's a dull throb is coming from his feet, which are bandaged and covered up with the thickest wool socks he owns.

McCoy is confused at first and wonders if he came down with something during the course of the weekend. Then the memories come flooding back and he's angry with himself.

And Jocelyn. And Ron. And their daughter who didn't really do anything to him.

He goes to turn over, bumping into a solid form behind him. McCoy is at the edge of the bed, so he knows it's not the wall. He lifts his head and turns.

Jim is pressed up against the wall, his face slack with sleep and snoring softly. He's covered himself in the quilt that McCoy's grandmother had made him, letting the doctor have the blankets and sheets on the bed. Jim's body is contorted in a position that looks awfully uncomfortable, but during the course of their friendship, McCoy learned that Jim can fall asleep anywhere…anytime…literally.

The kid is like the eighth world wonder.

McCoy adjusts his body, giving Jim more room to move if he so desires, and drops his head back onto the pillow, remembering that Jim had kept his promise.

With a grin, McCoy falls back asleep.

* * *

Years have passed since the Jack Daniels incident, as Jim refers to it in the most endearing terms, and McCoy finds himself sitting on the other end of the couch in his quarters, struggling to find the words to tell Christine about his apprehension and blatant avoidance of romantic relationships.

Sex is one thing - it's carnal and animalistic. It does not require a lot of emotional attachment and it's safe.

To actually open up to someone - which McCoy finds himself guilty of - is creating vulnerability and is forcing him to let his walls down.

McCoy doesn't want to be this person, especially around Christine. He hates holding back on her, especially since their fling is steadily growing more serious. Hell - he _almost_ told her this true feelings!

_She was asleep, you moron,_ whispers the voice in his head. _It's not like she heard you. _

That wasn't the point. He nearly said three words that he swore he would never utter again.

And like an idiot, he pulls back. Not a lot, but a little. McCoy thought that Christine wouldn't notice, but he is dead wrong.

It started not because of her asking, but because McCoy learns that Jocelyn and Rick welcomed another baby through a friend back in Atlanta. Thankfully, it's not the same one who broke the news to him all those years ago.

While he doesn't go into a tailspin, it stings something fierce and reminds him how different he is from Christine.

"So," he says looking down at his hands that are folded in his lap, "I have a lot of baggage and loathe Jack Daniels." The joke fails. He looks up to see Christine's placid face. She's making a study of him and doesn't give much away.

He's seen that look before, in Sick Bay. It's reserved for when shit has hit the fan and she is remaining calm for the patient's sake.

McCoy is growing uncomfortable under the scrutiny and shifts uneasily on the couch. "Can you say something?" he asks, desperate.

She is biting the inside of her mouth, her hazel eyes still on him. "It explains a lot," she finally says.

He doesn't know if he should laugh or cry. Instead, McCoy sighs deeply and nods in agreement. "Yeah, I guess it does."

"Leonard," she says, crawling across the cushions so that their knees are pressed together. Her hand is on his kneecap, her thumb brush against the fabric of his pants. "There was a reason why I didn't push when it came to us. Aside from what Jim let slip, which wasn't a lot, I figured something was holding you back."

"Oh how true that is," McCoy mumbles under his breath. "You can't even begin to fathom, princess."

She gives him a sidelong look before continuing. "I think you're putting too much pressure on yourself," she says. He starts to protest when she holds her hand up. "I am not asking for what you cannot give."

He thinks on this for a moment and realizes she's right. "I know," McCoy sighs.

"You are an amazing man, Leonard," she tells him, taking his hands into her own.

He arches a brow. "Are you breaking up with me?"

"Wait? What? No!" she exclaims, confused. She shakes her head. "I'm sorry, but I didn't realize we were together."

"I mean...we kind of are," he tries to explain, feeling stupid as he does so. "I'm not seeing anyone else, you're not seeing anyone else. I just figured..."

Christine rolls her eyes and wraps her arms around his neck. "Leonard."

"Yes ma'am?"

"Get out of your head once in a while," she replies, kissing him on the lips.

He is stunned when she pulls back. "But I like it in there," he stammers.

"That's all well and good, but I like you out here," Christine quips, "with me."

McCoy sighs again and runs his fingers through her hair, then nods. "Why are you even remotely interested in me? I'm a head case. I'm cranky. I'm stubborn."

"You are also brilliant, funny, and extremely good looking," Christine interrupts. "And amazing in bed."

McCoy forces a smile before looking away, his smile fading. "I'm so broken, Chris," he whispers. "Do you really want to deal with that?"

"I don't think you're broken," she whispers back, lifting his chin so that his gaze meets hers. "If you were, we wouldn't be having this conversation."

McCoy shrugs. "That's true, I suppose," he says. He sighs, noticing that Christine is grinning at him. He can't help, but grin back before leaning in to kiss her.

Their lips brush against each other and it's the kind of kiss that is tentative at first, then gains momentum. McCoy traces his finger over the soft line of Christine's jaw, cupping her cheek in his hand as he deepens the kiss. He parts her lips with his tongue, gaining entrance into her mouth and pulling her closer to him.

He feels Christine tugging at his tunic, bringing it up over his waist along with his black undershirt. Her fingers rake over his skin, causing McCoy to shiver at her touch and make his skin rise. He groans into her mouth as her hands glide over his skin, her touch so tenuous that he can barely contain himself.

McCoy pulls away first, raising his arms over his head to allow Christine to remove the top portion of his uniform. They are both panting and flushed.

She takes off the offending clothing, letting it slip from her fingers and onto the floor next to the couch. He doesn't take his eyes off her as he reaches for Christine again. She is leaning into his touch and lets out a sigh as he traces her bottom lip with the tip of his thumb.

Without a word, McCoy sweeps her up in his arms and carries her into his bedroom. They are standing at the edge of his bed, undressing each other.

There are no quippy remarks, nor is there any suggestive banter, not this time.

McCoy falls back on the mattress, naked and fully aroused as Christine stands in front him. He swallows audibly as she crawls over his body, her bare breasts - perfect and supple - gliding over his broad chest as she lowers her lips to his.

McCoy moves his hands to Christine's hips, caressing her soft skin, his sense of urgency building with each touch. She is straddling him, her legs on either side of his thighs, and her can feel the heat of sex against his skin.

He breaks the kiss as his erection slips inside of her. He closes his eyes and utters a husky groan as she accommodates him inside of her.

Her hips begin to rise and fall with cunning delicacy. Shockwaves flood McCoy's heated body as he opens his eyes, fixated on Christine's every motion as she rides him. As he finds a rhythm to match hers, McCoy crushes his lips against hers. He moves one of his hands up her back, feeling her skin as he does so, and cups the back of her head. His fingers are tangled between the silky strands of her hair, pulling her closer to him.

He hears her muffled moan against his mouth. Her hands are flush against his chest, scrambling for purchase as her pleasure mounts.

He knows that this time it isn't just sex - it's different. Despite being afraid to admit it openly, McCoy knows what they are doing and it's changing the very nature of their relationship.

Christine breaks the kiss as she climaxes, her gasps and moans resonating within the confines of his bedroom. McCoy is digging his fingernails into her skin, urging her hips to keep moving as the muscles deep inside of her shudder around him.

He flips them over, his hands drawing Christine closer to him as he continues thrusting into her. He is savoring the skin to skin contact and the feeling of her hands on his back.

McCoy kisses her again, silently wishing that this moment would never end.

However, he is not Superman and it does end, but it's spectacular and makes his head spin.

He is going faster, his climax drawing closer and closer, building from his erection to his chest. It's like a storm brewing inside of him, slow at first and gaining intensity and momentum. His limbs are trembling and he's finding it difficult to hold back any longer.

McCoy closes his eyes as he erupts, crying out her name and seeing stars behind his eyelids. He is shuddering against her body and feels helpless as he lets out a final moan before collapsing next to her.

He lays there, catching his breath. He feels Christine next to him, her body radiating heat and fulfillment.

She moves, pressing herself against him and McCoy moves his arm to accommodate her. He feels her head on his still heaving chest and welcomes it. His fingers stroke her upper arm as he relaxes onto the mattress and feels like he can finally open his eyes.

"What are you thinking?" he hears her say before she pressing her lips to his chest and sighs.

His fingers are listlessly moving in circles on her skin when he shrugs in response. "That I'm going to give myself a coronary," he jokes, earning a swat to his chest. McCoy chuckles. "You asked."

Christine props herself on her elbow, looking at him with an arched brow. "You're incorrigible!"

"Oh please," he retorts with a dramatic eye roll, pulling her on top of him. Her hair falls around them like a curtain, hiding them from the rest of the world. He kisses her cheek, moving up to the tip of her nose, her forehead, then her ear. "Do you want to be my girlfriend?" he whispers into her ear.

"It's about fucking time you asked, Dr. McCoy," she quips.

It's all he needs to hear.


	6. Chapter Six

**Chapter Six **

It's Poker Night at Sulu's quarters. The living room is under a haze of cigar smoke and already smells like booze when McCoy walks in.

Hendorff and Jim are already arguing. The former is apparently keeping the promise he made to Christine and Jim doesn't look happy. In fact, the captain has a nasty scowl on his face when McCoy enters Sulu's and points at him.

"It's _boys_ night," Jim hisses, his blue eyes burning bright. "Christine Chapel is not a _boy_."

Hendorff and McCoy exchange a look, to which Hendorff shrugs and excuses himself from the conversation while shaking his head.

"I am pleased that you have an understanding of basic human anatomy, kid," McCoy says casually, which only further irks Jim.

Jim narrows his eyes. "She probably doesn't even know the rules!"

"I'm sure she'll be fine," Sulu replies as he's setting up the table. "I mean, _you_ figured it out, so it can't be that hard."

McCoy chokes back his laughter as Jim turns his glare on the helmsman.

"Ha fucking ha," Jim snaps.

Sulu shrugs and continues his task, ignoring Jim.

"Bones," Jim says, still on a tear, "tell her not to come. Order her not to come!"

McCoy rolls his eyes dramatically. "No," he replies, nudging Jim aside to grab a beer from the bucket by the replicator.

"Bones!"

"No. Absolutely not," McCoy replies.

The door opens and it's Spock, who's hobbling in with the aid of a cane. Chekov is right behind him, watching the Vulcan with a wary eye in case if he needs assistance.

"Spock!" bellows Jim, earning a cool expression from the Vulcan. "Tell these clowns that having Chapel here is a bad idea!"

Spock, who plants himself in the closet chair around the table, gives Jim an inquisitive look. "I do not understand why having Nurse Chapel join us would be unwise."

"You, me, and the rest of us," McCoy says before taking a sip from the beer bottle in his hand.

Jim waves him off. "I thought it was a rule that there were no females allows during poker night."

"I do not recall such a rule being made," Spock replies, arching a brow. He turns his gaze on Hendorff, who shrugs.

"What are you even talking about," Sulu asks in an annoyed tone.

"Oh come _on_!" Jim argues. "It's a universally known rule that poker night is a guy's night."

"I am not familiar with this universally known rule – as you have stated," Spock replies. "Which universe are you referring to?"

McCoy nearly chokes on his beer and finds himself doubled over in hysterical laughter. In fact, everyone but Jim and Spock are laughing when the door chimes. Someone answers it and he hears Scotty's voice, then Christine's.

He pulls himself together and straightens himself to his full height while wiping tears of laughter from his eyes.

"What did I miss?" Scotty asks in his thick Scottish accent, his face masked in confusion. He turns to Christine who shrugs.

Jim hisses incoherent through his teeth and takes his place at the table, a beer in hand. He is scowling at Christine, who is pointedly ignoring him, as she walks over to McCoy. As she reaches for a beer, she turns to him and whispers, "What just happened?"

"I'll tell you later," he whispers back, flashing her a smile. "And believe me when I say that the anticipation is _definitely_ worth it."

Christine raises a brow and smirks. "I'll take your word on it," she replies.

"Can we get this over with?" Jim snaps from his seat.

Christine turns around, her eyes flashing in irritation. "Cool your jets, hot shot," she retorts. She casts a knowing look at McCoy before heading over to the poker table to take a seat.

She's been his girlfriend – _girlfriend_, Jesus – for a month and he hasn't been happier.

Of course no one else, save Carol Marcus, knows that and McCoy thinks they are doing a good job at concealing their deepening relationship. Eventually, they will stop acting like there are guarding a Federation secret and be less discreet, but for now, it works for them.

It allows them to develop their bond without the interference of others and it suits McCoy just fine.

They enjoy their time together (though having actual dates on a starship is tricky) and the doctor cannot figure out when luck changed in his favor. He's not one to argue…unlike Jim who is now badgering Christine.

"So did they teach you poker at that fancy boarding school you went to?" he says with sarcasm.

Christine gives him a look that would make other men wilt, but not Jim. "No," she replies coolly, "just the usual etiquette, horseback riding and Snagging a Rich Husband 101."

"And how did the latter go, National Velvet?"

McCoy raises a brow at Jim, who doesn't notice. He takes his seat next to Christine and within a swift kick to Jim's knee.

"I have time," she says. She leans in. "Tell me, Jim, is the fact that you're an asshole part of the job as captain or are you special?"

Jim leans back in his seat, arms crossed and glaring. "Spoiled brat," he mumbles under his breath.

"I can still hear you," Christine replies.

"Good."

McCoy bucks his leg, hitting Jim in the kneecap. He watches Jim grimace in pain and his face turn a bright shade of pink. Soon cerulean blue eyes are glaring at him. McCoy shrugs casually and brings the beer bottle to his lips. "Sorry," he says before taking a sip. "My foot slipped."

Jim is muttering something incoherent and he looks livid.

"Are you two going to be like this all night?" Scotty whines, his eyes wide. "If so, I'd rather go home and drink by myself…"

Christine raises her beer bottle and says, "Amen, Scotty. Mind if I join you?"

McCoy tries to hide a smile by drinking his beer.

"Okay," Sulu says, putting an end to the argument. He has a slack of cards in his hands that he pushes over to Christine. "Ladies first."

Jim makes a face and shakes his head. "Are you serious?" he balks. "You're _letting_ her deal?"

"Everyone gets a chance to deal, Jim," Hendorff says from the couch.

Jim leans back in his seat and hisses, "Shut up, Cupcake!"

McCoy hears the sound of cards being expertly shuffled. He glances over at Christine and watches in silence as her hands shuffle and separate and reshuffle the deck, spreading them out like an accordion, then back into a neat stack.

The other men in the room are gaping at her, especially Jim who has no idea what to do with himself.

"How do you know how to do zat?" asks Chekov with wide eyes. He's completely enthralled by Christine's display and is practically leaning over McCoy to get a closer look.

Christine shrugs her shoulders as she starts dealing. "I just do," she says, flashing McCoy a knowing grin.

"Oh bullshit," Jim snaps, grabbing his cards. "Chapel, don't play coy now!"

Christine shakes her head. "I played some poker at the Academy."

McCoy leans back in his seat, drinking his beer with a smug look on his face.

This is going to be good.

"Okay…where did you play poker?"

"At Tanner," she says, referring the all-male dorm that first years live in.

"Everyone played poker at Tanner," Jim replies.

"True, but did everyone run the thing," Christine asks as she shuffles the last card off to Spock.

McCoy sees Jim's face and definitely knows that this evening will be entertaining.

Truth be told, McCoy knows what's about to happen. They had played strip poker one evening and after losing miserably to Christine (as well as sitting buck ass naked in her living room), she spent an hour explaining about the elusive and highly illegal poker operation in the basement of Tanner Hall.

By the time she was done telling him (and by some strange coincidence – naked and straddling his lap), McCoy was laughing so hard that his face hurt and he continued to laugh until Christine rode him to a satisfying climax.

"Wait – _what_?" Jim sputters. "You ran the poker ring in an _all-boys dorm_?"

"You're making it out to be much more than it was."

"That was _you_?" asks Hendorff. When Christine nods, he bursts out laughing, slapping his knee.

"Chapel!" Jim's voice booms. "Do you know that they thought _I_ was running that?"

Christine shrugs.

"Bones! Tell her how many times they had surprise inspections in my room! TELL. HER!"

McCoy looks at her and shrugs. "At least twenty times in one semester."

"They were trying to pin it on _me_!"

"I would apologize, but I don't care," Christine replies, looking at her cards. "Who's big blind?"

"Christ, Chapel! I almost got expelled!"

Christine rolls her eyes. "Oh please."

"They were monitoring my credits!"

"Uh huh."

"And it was _you_ the entire time?" Jim is so beside himself that he looks like he's about to explode.

Christine looks up and shrugs her shoulders. "What can I say? They taught gambling at my fancy boarding school," she says.

Jim makes an jumbled sound, rousing laughter from the other men in the room.

"And Jim," Christine says as she throws a credit onto the table. "I went to a _private_ school in Marin."

* * *

They are all drunk – save Spock. McCoy is leaning over Christine's shoulder with Scotty and Hendorff next to him, looking at Christine's hand.

Jim and Chekov are huddled over Sulu's shoulder across the table, murmuring to themselves.

Spock is neither here nor there and prefers to stay in his seat, being the nonpartisan party. It is still hard to him to move around, let alone stand on his injured leg.

The cards are spread out on the table, next to the stack of credits. McCoy studies them through a drunken haze, then moves his eyes back to the cards in Christine's hands.

She has a straight flush, making the odds of her _actually_ beating Sulu pretty high. Knowing the helmsman, he probably has a royal flush and his reign of domination over the poker table will continue.

McCoy leans down to whisper in her ear, "Those three are looking mighty smug." He can feel her smiling.

"Nothing I can do about that," Christine whispers back.

McCoy drops down to the balls of his feet, so that he's level with the armrest of the chair.

"If you pull this off, I will do whatever you want," he says, his words slurring.

Christine laughs. "You already do whatever I want," she counters, turning her hazel eyes on him with a lazy grin.

McCoy wrinkles his nose at her. "Rub it in why don't you?" he says, rising to his feet. By chance he looks over at Spock, who is watching them with a peculiar expression.

As if he's seeing something that no one else notices.

McCoy clears his throat and nods at the Vulcan, who only raises a brow.

Before he can panic, Sulu sets down his cards – four of a kind. He's grinning like an idiot whereas Jim looks incredibly smug.

"Well," Jim says, reaching across the table for the credits, "that ends that."

Christine clears her throat, shaking her head. "Not quite."

"He beat you on a four of a kind, Chapel!" Jim snaps, leaning over the table, his arms wobbling from having too much beer.

Christine gives him an indignant gaze before setting her cards down. "Straight flush," she says, her tone serious.

"Shut the _fuck_ up!" Jim and Sulu holler simultaneously. The two men continue ranting in disbelief as Scotty, Hendorff, and McCoy laugh at them.

"That isn't _even_ possible!"

"How the hell did you do that?"

As Christine pulls the credits towards her, she flashes them a devious grin. Even Spock looks amused by the display and almost smiles.

"Hendorff, you're fired!" Jim yells, pointing at his crew member. "Fired! You are _never_ allowed to give up your seat at poker night ever _again_! That's a fucking order!"

"I just see this," Christine quips. "Captain's Log: Security Officer Hendorff has been banned from giving up his seat during our weekly poker night after Nurse Chapel beat Helmsman Sulu on a straight flush. Please note, she went to a private school whereas I previously thought it was a boarding school."

"Be quiet," Jim snaps.

Christine snuffles in laughter as she rises from her seat, her pockets full of credits. "Gentlemen," she says, casting a mocking look at Jim, "it's been a pleasure."

She flips a credit at Jim before leaving Sulu's quarters. McCoy sees the look Jim's giving her – that look where he can't tell if he wants to kill her or have his way with her. It's almost humorous to the doctor and he chuckles as he sips on another beer.

McCoy stays for another hour before departing. Spock is still observing him while Jim and Sulu are ranting about the latter's spectacular defeat. Chekov is passed out on the couch and Hendorff left not long after Christine.

"Okay," McCoy says, putting his cigar out, "I'm tuckered out. Goodnight." He turns to the Vulcan and nods his head at him. "Do you need help getting back to your quarters?"

Spock shifts in his head. "I require no assistance in returning to my quarters, but I appreciate your offer."

"You're welcome, I guess," McCoy says as he leaves. He wanders back to his quarters, where Christine is waiting for him.

She is naked in his bed when he arrives. He can make out the curves of her body under his sheets as she dozes and he immediately takes off his clothes.

McCoy crawls over the mattress and lightly slaps Christine's rear end as he flops down on the sheets. "You are something, you know that?" he says as he kisses her cheek.

"I do what I can," she replies sleepily. She opens her eyes and grins at him.

McCoy scoots under the sheets and presses himself against Christine, relishing the feeling of her warm body next to his. "And the look on Jim's face…"

"I can't believe he called me National Velvet," she grumbles. Christine lays her head on his chest and runs her fingers through his chest hair. "I took ballet. Bunhead would have been more appropriate."

McCoy laughs. "It's probably better that you didn't tell him," he replies, kissing the top of her head. "He would have spent the entire evening undressing you with his eyes or picturing you in a tutu."

"Too bad I'm already spoken for," Christine yawns.

McCoy smiles at this and pulls her closer. "It's not too bad for me," he whispers into her hair.

"Definitely not," Christine hums. She rests her chin on his chest and looks at him. "You smell like those cigars."

"My apologies," McCoy says as he brushes her hair off her face. "I got excited when I came back to find a naked woman in my bed." He watches Christine roll her eyes and laughs. "Did I mention that she's the most beautiful woman I've ever seen?"

Christine shakes her head, amused. "Why Dr. McCoy, I do declare," she purrs as she slides on top of him. She sits up, the sheets fall away and reveal her bare torso.

Her pale skin gleams in the dim light and McCoy is mesmerized. He sits up, reaching for her and brings their lips together in a heated kiss. His dick is hard and throbbing and he can feel her wetness.

"What time do we need to be at Sick Bay?" Christine gasps as his mouth covers one of her nipples and his tongue flicks the peak, milking her reaction.

McCoy loves this part. For him, sex isn't just about him and his orgasm, but getting Christine there as well. He thoroughly enjoys finding new ways to set her off and she definitely hasn't complained.

He feels her tugging on his hair as she weaves her fingers through the strains on the back of his head. She is grinding against him, wanting him inside of her. McCoy applies suction on her nipple, teasing it with the tip of his tongue and hears her whisper, "Leonard…"

McCoy is gratified. He moves his mouth to the valley between her breasts, his lips linger there. He can smell the pleasant scent of her skin - a mixture of her perfume and a warm summer evening, as cliché as it sounded - and feel her heart thumping against her chest. His hands are caressing her back as he shifts, gaining entrance to her sex. He swallows as his dick is enclosed by her. He feels the tightness, the flutter of muscles contracting and expanding, and it feels like home.

He hears her groan, adjusting to the fullness of him, and decides it's one of his favorite sounds in the world. McCoy glances up at her and sees her lazy grin.

"Never," he whispers. "Never. We can just stay here and never leave."

Before Christine can reply, McCoy takes her and doesn't let her go for a long time.


	7. Chapter Seven

**Chapter Seven **

Its two days after the poker game when Jim comes down to Sick Bay. For once, it's not for an appointment or injury and it makes McCoy uneasy when his friend approaches him with his usual saunter.

"I need to talk to you," Jim says with a grin.

McCoy rolls his eyes as he types onto his PADD. "I'm busy," he replies without even looking up.

"Come on, Bones," Jim whines, keeping his voice low. "It's important!"

McCoy looks up, his brow arched. "Are you injured?"

"No."

"Dying?"

"Not this week."

McCoy is not amused. "Not funny, kid."

"Too soon?" Jim quips. He leans against the counter, watching McCoy as he works. "I'm having a problem."

McCoy nods. "With what?"

"It's about a girl," Jim whispers as loudly as he dares.

"So you're coming to me because why?" McCoy asks as he sets his PADD down. He has a feeling that this is either going to be hilarious or idiotic.

Jim motions for McCoy to come closer as his blue eyes scan Sick Bay for any eavesdroppers. "It's about Chapel," he admits.

Of course it's the latter. _Goddammit Jim_, the doctor thinks as he tries to contain himself. "Are you still mad that she almost got you expelled?" McCoy jibes.

"No," Jim hisses, glaring at his friend before his expression softens. He almost looks like a teenager. "You work with her."

"I do."

"On a scale of one to ten, how much do you think she hates me?" Jim asks.

McCoy groans, automatically knowing where this is heading and it's not going to be pretty for anyone.

Back at the Academy, Jim took Christine out on a date. At the time, McCoy couldn't put a face to the name when his friend had mentioned the "Really Hot Nurse" because he and Chapel were on different rotations.

Also, Jim never told McCoy the date's name (not uncommon because it _was_ Jim).

It didn't matter because apparently Jim started flirting with the waitress on their first _and_ only date, causing Christine to leave. She had been a true class act - there was no slap across the face, no drinks on Jim's person, or other dramatics.

It was no wonder Jim couldn't remember her.

Carol was the one who told McCoy and he couldn't believe that the "Really Hot Nurse" was _his_ "Really Hot Nurse". When he mentioned it to Christine, she waved him off with a very sour, "God, do _we_ have to talk about _that_?"

McCoy never mentioned it again. Of course now Jim is bringing it back up. McCoy gives him a sidelong look and sighs. "An eleven," he replies, hoping that this will deter Jim from doing what the doctor thinks he's going to do.

"An _eleven_?" Jim is beside himself, his eyes wide and he almost looks worried. He crosses his arms over his chest and sways on his feet, deep in thought. "Really? An eleven?"

McCoy nods. "You shouldn't have flirted with that waitress, kid," he says, hoping that this is the end of the conversation.

"An **eleven**? Shit." Jim is still baffled. "Well…what do I do to fix it?"

_Oh Jesus._ McCoy shoots him a dirty look. "You leave it alone, Jim."

"Bones! Come on! Help me out!"

"No," McCoy snaps. "I am not going to help you put another notch in your belt!" _Especially with my girlfriend._

Jim doesn't look happy. "Why the hell not? And who said I wanted to put another notch in my belt?"

"Are we _really_ going to have this conversation?" McCoy retorts. "I'm a doctor, not a dating service! I have work to do and you have a ship to run!"

At that very moment, Christine walks into Sick Bay, carrying two sandwiches from the mess hall. She and Bones have a conference comm with other Starfleet doctors and nurses who are out in space. These conferences always run over and there is no chance to get food unless you go before hand or starve through it.

"They didn't have chicken salad," Christine says as she walks up to McCoy, handing him a sandwich wrapped in plastic. "So I got you ham on rye." She sees Jim and nods in acknowledgment. "Captain."

Jim puts on his most charming grin. "Chapel," he says. "I didn't realize that you do delivery. Maybe one day I should ask you to bring me a sandwich."

All McCoy can think is _Jesus Fucking Christ, kid!_

"You have two legs. Do it yourself," she says dismissively before heading to McCoy's office to set up for the comm.

McCoy turns to Jim, furious. "Smooth," he hisses through his teeth as he gets up off his stool, grabbing his sandwich and PADD. "You're a moron."

After the conference comm wraps up, McCoy tells Christine about what happened and she thinks it's hilarious. McCoy, on the other hand, does not.

"Leonard," she says, tilting her head in such a way that makes him want to make out with Christine in full view of his team, "don't get so wound up about it."

McCoy pinches the bridge of his nose and closes his eyes. "Whose idea was it to keep our relationship a secret?"

"Probably yours," she replies.

"I'm a fucking idiot..._and_ you're probably right." He groans, feeling his head pounding.

Christine chuckles and he feels her hand on his arm, squeezing it in comfort. "You're not a fucking idiot," she says. "But if you're insistent, you're _my_ fucking idiot."

"Thanks darlin'," McCoy drawls, feeling a little bit better.

Unfortunately for them, Jim's attempts at wooing Christine are persistent. Her rebuffs - ranging from gentle, yet firm to accidentally dosing him a sedative instead of allergy medication - are downright comical. McCoy's avoidance of giving Jim advice is tragic and the doctor wishes that he wasn't so damn secretive of his personal life.

They start staying in Christine's quarters because of an incident that almost exposed their relationship - in the literal and figurative sense - to Jim when he came bursting into McCoy's quarters while they were _busy_ in the shower.

McCoy had his head buried between her thighs, his tongue lapping at her clit with gusto as Christine trembled at his ministrations. Her smell, the water beating down on his back, her hands in his wet hair...

She was _so close_ and he was _so ready_ to screw her brains out in the shower when she was done that McCoy could barely handle it.

As McCoy listened to her breath quicken, he heard Jim's voice booming in his quarters. McCoy jerked his head up, eyes wide, and jumped his feet. "Are you fucking kidding me?" he spat.

"Bones!" Jim yelled, his voice partially muffled by the shower.

"He...I swear..." McCoy ranted as he turned off the shower, grabbing towels for the both of them.

Christine's face turned bright red with rage. "I'm going to kill him," she hissed, taking the towel and wrapping it around her body. "Leonard, I'm going to kill him and make it look like an accident, and then I'm going to make _you_ help me hide the body!"

"Get in line, sweetheart," McCoy said as Jim called for him again. "I'm in the fucking shower. Keep your pants on!" He turned to Christine with an apologetic expression. "Stay in here. I'll try to get him out as soon as I can."

Christine grumbled something under her breath as she sat down on the toilet, arms crossed and soaking wet.

"I'm sorry," McCoy said before going to see what Jim wanted. The kid is there for a good forty-five minutes before McCoy gets him to leave. When he returns to the bathroom, Christine was beyond livid and shivering.

They are in Christine's living room. McCoy is waiting for her on the couch, his PADD in hand and loaded with a holovid for them to watch, and Christine has replicated popcorn.

On his way into her quarters, he noticed some flowers - something resembling Gerber daisies - in a trash compactor, but quickly forgot when Christine greeted him with an enthusiastic kiss.

"Who got you flowers?" McCoy asks upon her approach.

Christine raises a brow.

_Jim._ Of course.

"Flowers?" McCoy says, baffled. "Really?" He shakes his head, completely and utterly mystified, as Christine sits down next to him and settles into the side of his body. "That kid is just pulling out all of the stops."

"Tell me about it. He had Chekov deliver them," she gripes as she picks up a piece of popcorn between her fingers and feeds to McCoy.

McCoy roars with laughter. "That poor kid!"

"That poor kid? What about _me_?" Christine whines. "It's starting to get embarrassing."

McCoy shrugs and hits a button to start the holovid. "I need to talk to him," he sighs. "And tell him what's going on."

"No shit," Christine agrees.

The conversation is over and they go back to watching the holovid in a comfortable silence. After the holovid is over, McCoy stays for a while longer.

They don't have sex and opt just to lounge around in a tangle of limbs. McCoy is looking at his PADD, going to communiques as Christine rests her head on his chest with her own PADD in hand. When McCoy glances over, he sees that she's reading _Pride & Prejudice_.

As he's about to say something about how Southern Gentlemen have the romance thing down better than the English, her PADD beeps.

It's a communique from her brother, Trevor. McCoy can't remember if he's the lawyer or the engineer (perhaps both?), but the communique is of great interest to Christine.

He fidgets, adjusting her weight against him and clears his throat, "Anything interesting?"

"Trevor is going to be at the Drozana Station during our layover," she replies as she detangles herself from McCoy. She begins to type a response back to him when she casually mentions, "And he wants to meet you."

McCoy arches a brow when Christine turns to him in order to gauge his reaction. "Does he?"

He knew that Christine had mentioned to her family that she was dating someone, as he had done with his parents (who were elated, of course). She hadn't been specific, but McCoy had passed the prerequisites:

**Was he nice?** _Yes._

**Is he your age?** _Yes...seven years ago._ (McCoy was sure _that_ went over real well with her father and brothers.)

**Where was he from?** _Georgia._

**Is he a Democrat or Republican?** _Moderate with leanings towards liberal views._

**What does he do for a living?** _He's in medicine._

Christine nods and spins around so that her back is against the couch and her legs are draped over his. She coils her hair over one shoulder and says as she taps the PADD, "A chance to meet the older, Southern, slightly liberal, medical professional with bad taste in baseball teams? Of _course_ he does!"

"Oh _really_?" McCoy laughs, leaning over to see the communique.

_CC - _

_ Since we're both going to be at Drozana, I should meet this boyfriend of yours so Dad stops freaking out that you're being taken advantage of by some older man (his words, not mine). Hopefully he lives up to the high standards that Aaron and I have set for you (sorry that you weren't included in that discussion. You were still playing with dolls at the time). _

_ Also - he's a Giants fan? Really Sis? Are you trying to make Grandpa roll over in his grave? If so, plan succeeded. Kudos. _

_ Trevor_

He rolls his eyes at the last part. "I'm never going to hear the end of the Giants thing, am I?"

"May as well disavow them and join the dark side, doctor," Christine replies with a shrug.

McCoy is quiet for a moment, mulling the situation over. She is his girlfriend and eventually he needs to meet a member of Christine's family (if not, all of them). If it is just one of them, it should be less awkward than getting a death stare from her father. "Fine," he says. "Fine. I'll meet him, but only if he leaves me alone about the Giants!"

* * *

Trevor Chapel is McCoy's height with light brown hair and the same hazel eyes as his little sister. He has a friendly face and a firm handshake, as well as the same teasing humor as Christine. They look a lot alike, leaving McCoy with absolutely no doubts that they are related.

"So, _you're_ the boyfriend," Trevor says in a low voice as he's giving McCoy an approving once over. He turns to his sister and raises a brow. "And he's also your _boss_. Yes, CC, I looked up the medical personnel on your ship. You really have a type, you know!"

Christine gives Trevor a dirty look and shakes her head. "Oh please," she retorts. "Don't act like you're so scandalized!"

"I'm actually impressed," Trevor says back, laughing. "I thought after the whole Tanner thing - did she tell you about that? She did? Good! It was brilliant! - that your wild streak was done."

"Wild streak?" Christine balks. "What wild streak! You and Aaron are way worse than me!"

"Is that so?"

"I'm sorry, but which Chapels are banned for _life_ from the ball park? That would be you _two_!"

McCoy watches them bicker good naturedly as they wait for their table to be ready and can't help grin at the two of them. The maître d' comes back and leads them to a table, where the three of them sit down.

It turns out that Trevor is the engineer (the other one being their mother) and he's serving on board the _USS Kennedy_. He is several years older than Christine and graduated from Starfleet when McCoy was a first-year cadet. His partner is a helmsman on the same ship.

Aaron, the oldest and the lawyer, is McCoy's age and is grounded and perfectly happy being based in San Francisco while his siblings are out in the black. He's the only Chapel sibling who is married and has children.

"So how did _this_ happen again," Trevor asks as they finish ordering. "And spare no detail. Mom wants a full report when I get back to the ship."

Christine playfully punches Trevor in the arm. "Stop scaring him!" she exclaims, casting a sympathetic look at McCoy.

"I am not scaring him, CC," Trevor retorts, turning to McCoy. "Am I scaring you?"

"Yes," Christine says before he can answer.

"Is _your_ name Leonard McCoy?" Trevor says, waving his sister off. "But seriously, how did this happen?"

Christine is burying her face in her hands, cursing incoherently against her palms. McCoy chuckles at the sight of her being ruffled before turning back to Trevor.

"You're sister is just so damn charming," McCoy begins as he takes a sip of wine, "that before I knew it, she had her claws in me."

Trevor bursts out laughing as Christine's head pops up, her mouth open in shock.

"That _is not_ what happened!" she retorts. She turns to Trevor and repeats, "That's not what happened."

Trevor is still laughing. "Oh, I'm sure," he replies reaching for his glass of wine.

The rest of the dinner is comfortable and filled with conversation, which comes easily. Honestly, it is hard not to like Trevor Chapel. He doesn't make McCoy feel like this dinner is an interrogation and he goes out of his way to make the outsider feel welcomed.

As they part for the evening, McCoy gets the feeling that Trevor is going to voice his approval to the rest of the family. He gives Christine a quick peck on the cheek as she is going back to the _Kennedy_ to say hello to Trevor's partner and to comm their parents together.

"I'll see you tomorrow," she whispers into his ear.

McCoy nods. He bids them both good night before heading back to the _Enterprise_ on his own with a giant smile plastered on his face.

While Christine does not have claws, she's definitely gotten to him and he doesn't mind.

McCoy is just taking off his boots when the chime to his door rings. He hopes that it's not Jim coming to bug him about Christine again because he's just about to punch the kid.

He opens the door and finds that Spock is standing there with that impassive look on his face. McCoy arches a brow. "Can I help you?"

"There is a matter I wish to discuss with you," replies the Vulcan, his dark eyes gauging the doctor's reaction.

"Would now be an inconvenient time?

McCoy shakes his head and steps aside, letting Spock into his quarters. As the door closes, he decides to be hospitable while Spock is surveying his quarters. "Can I get you anything to drink? Water? Bourbon?"

Spock raises a brow at this. "I do not require any beverage, though I appreciate the offer."

"Ah," McCoy says. "Well make yourself comfortable while I fix myself a drink." He walks over to the cabinet next to the replicator and pours himself a glass of Bourbon on the rocks. "So what is the matter your wish to discuss, Spock? Or should I ask what did Jim do _this_ time?"

"Jim has not done anything that concerns me," Spock says. "The matter I wish to discuss does involve him in some aspect."

"Only some? That's unheard of," McCoy quips as he turns around to see Spock looking at his bookcase, hands behind his back.

The Vulcan's leg seems to be doing better, having lost the need for the cane, and he seems like his infuriating self once more. "Dr. McCoy, it has come to my attention that you and Nurse Chapel have developed a more personal relationship."

"What makes you say that?" McCoy lies, quickly taking a sip of his drink.

"I have observed the recent interactions between the two of you, starting from our evening Lieutenant Sulu's to this evening when Lieutenant Uhura and I saw you both were dining with who I can only surmise is Nurse Chapel's relative," Spock explains, his brows twitching ever so slightly. "I have come to the conclusion that you and your nurse have become romantically involved."

All McCoy can think is, _Damn that pointy-eared bastard!_ He levels his eyes with the Vulcan in attempt to deter him from finding out the truth, but he knows it's failing miserably. "I wouldn't be the first person on this ship to partake in a relationship with a subordinate," McCoy replies defiantly, narrowing his eyes at the First Officer.

Spock is nonplussed by the comment about his own relationship with Uhura. "Nor shall you be the last," he says evenly.

"If you are coming here to lecture me about if I am aware of the consequences if this goes south, the answer is yes, I do," McCoy retorts vehemently. "I am _very_ aware of the consequences, which is why I would appreciate it if you kept your Vulcan mouth shut. I don't like people prying into my personal life and I sure as hell don't want a slip of _someone's_ tongue dragging Christine into Starfleet politics and gossip."

"If you were inferring that I would inform our fellow crew members of your private relationship with Nurse Chapel, you are mistaken," Spock replies. He almost - _almost_ - looks amused. "My reason in having this conversation with you was not to discourage or dissuade you from pursuing her, but to merely offer advice if it is needed."

As McCoy is about to curse the Vulcan, he stops short. "Wait, _what_?"

"You made mention of my own relationship with Lieutenant Uhura and I understand the complexities of maintaining a relationship in private," Spock answers.

"Are you trying to say I'm doing a bad job at hiding it?"

"On the contrary. If you and Nurse Chapel had not been drinking at Lieutenant Sulu's, I would have only surmised that you two were friends."

McCoy stared wide eyed at Spock, then glances down at the tumbler of Bourbon in his hand. "I really ought to stop drinking," he sighs as he puts the tumbler down. "Did anyone else notice?"

"No."

McCoy lets out a nervous chuckle. "That's good."

"Might I inquire as to why you and Nurse Chapel are being secretive?" asks Spock.

McCoy raises a brow. "Do you _really_ want to hear this?"

"I would not be asking if I felt otherwise."

"Of course not," McCoy grumbles as he takes a seat on his couch. He runs his hand through his hair and exhales. "For the record, _I'm_ the one being secretive. Christine just rolls with the punches and it doesn't affect her one way or the other."

Spock doesn't say anything and McCoy doesn't expect him to.

"I thought it was just going to be a casual thing and then..." McCoy's voice trails off.

"And then it wasn't?" Spock offered, almost sounding human.

McCoy only nods. The two men sit in silence for a while before Spock says something.

"It is unusual to see you happy, Dr. McCoy," he admits.

McCoy snorts at the comment and rolls his eyes. "Thanks," he grunts.

"It is amenable," Spock adds, causing McCoy to look up and stare at the Vulcan like he had three heads. "It confuses me that you look so surprised."

McCoy makes a face. "It confuses me that you even said that," he replies. "Are you feeling all right?"

"I can assure you, doctor, that I feel fine," Spock says. He looked at McCoy's chronometer. "It is getting late."

"I suppose it is." McCoy gets up and walks the Vulcan to the door.

Spock turns to him. "When will you tell Jim?"

_Shit,_ McCoy thinks. _Jim._ McCoy exhales deeply and cards a hand through his hair before shaking his head. "I don't know."

"Surely his pursuit of Nurse Chapel must make you both uncomfortable."

"Oh, believe me it does," McCoy counters gruffly. "Just Spock...please don't say anything to him. I need to do this in my own time."

Spock nods in understanding. "If I may interject a bit of advice," he says, pausing to wait for McCoy's reaction. McCoy nods. "Telling him sooner than later would be ideal."

"I know," McCoy says woefully. He does know - boy, does he know! He has no idea what's holding him back from telling his best friend. Sure, Jim's comments about Christine being too good for him don't help, but it's Jim. He may be a little hurt at first, but then things would be fine.

"Good evening," Spock says as he goes to leave.

McCoy only nods and watches the door close behind the Vulcan. _Well,_ he thinks to himself, _now three people know. That just leaves Jim and the entire ship._


	8. Chapter Eight

**Chapter Eight**

"I just had the most interesting conversation with Nyota," Christine says as she hops onto the treadmill next to him. She gives him a shrewd look, her hazel eyes sparkling in the lighting of the gym.

McCoy grimaces as he runs. "I was going to try to talk to you about that earlier," he pants.

"Uh huh," Christine replies as she begins to run, her machine slowly picking up the pace that she selected. "How did your conversation with Spock go?"

McCoy shrugged. "It was definitely unexpected," he says. "Sometimes I forget that that green blooded hobgoblin is half-human." He hears Christine giggle. "What did Uhura have to say?"

"The usual: I should have said something sooner, she's happy for us, and is he grumpy in bed?" The last comment is clearly a lie as Christine winks at him.

McCoy makes a face. "Cute," he says dryly. "Very cute."

"I do what I can," she replies.

They continue to run in silence, both of them sweating and puffing from the exertion. The gym is only half full, as it's getting late, and most of the inhabitants are preoccupied with their own workouts to really notice McCoy and Christine conversing.

"You received high praises," Christine says after a little while. She has a smirk on her lips. "Trevor really liked you and that's saying something."

McCoy smirks back. "Does this mean that your daddy won't come after me with a shotgun the next time we're terrain bound?"

"I can't make any promises," Christine teases, wrinkling her nose.

McCoy chuckles. "Great," he says as he reaches for the dashboard on the treadmill to bring it to a brisk walk. "We have a little over four years to wear him down, right?"

"Yes sir," Christine laughs. She looks over at him walking and raises a brow. "You're already done?"

McCoy makes a face. "Already done? I've been running for forty-five minutes!" he retorts as he brings the machine to a stop. "You were late, missy!" He grabs the towel he has draped over the side and begins to towel off the sweat on his neck and face.

"I'm sorry. I was being interrogated by Nyota," Christine responds back, sticking her tongue out at him.

McCoy rolls his eyes. "Watch it," he says huskily. "I can think of a few things that would put that tongue to good use."

"Oh, I don't doubt it," she says back, clearly amused.

As McCoy is about to respond back, Jim is walking up to them with a big grin on his face. He's in his uniform and holding his PADD, making McCoy wonder if he's tracked them down for official business.

"Hey Bones, Chapel," Jim says as he stops in front of Christine's machine. He's eyeing her workout attire, which doesn't leave much to the imagination, and it makes McCoy want to slug him. "Do you two have a minute?"

Without a word, Christine stops her machine and rests her arms over the dashboard. She gives McCoy a look and he can tell that she's annoyed that Jim is interfering with her day. "Anything for you, Captain," she says sarcastically.

"Anything?" Jim says, wagging his brows.

McCoy lets out a groan. "What is it, kid?"

"You two are accompanying me and Ensign Masaro down to M-Class Planet Goa III. It's a day from our current location. The _Endeavor_ had to dock because of some flu bug that's going around, so Starfleet called us in at the last possible minute. It's a standard exploratory mission: pick up samples, survey what we can, keep ourselves away from the natives," Jim explains. He gives Christine a flirtatious look and smirks. "Although if you wear _that_ down to the surface, the natives will definitely see us."

Before McCoy can react, Christine heaves her towel at Jim's face. His cry of surprise is muffled by the fabric and when he pulls the towel off, he looks surprised.

"One more comment like that, Captain, and I will hypospray you into the next century," she snaps at him. There isn't a trace of amusement on her face and McCoy is almost scared for Jim.

He clears his throat and asks, "Why do you need the both of us?"

"It's part of Nurse Chapel's training," Jim says. "Since she is your head nurse, you need to accompany her on at least one terrain mission to observe her."

McCoy and Christine look at each other. She ends up shrugging, as if to say, "That suits me just fine." He nods in agreement and leans against the equipment. "Forward the briefing to myself and Chapel and we'll review."

"Will do," Jim replies as he taps on his PADD. "Could the two of you report to my ready room tomorrow around 07:00 hours to discuss our objective? We'll depart afterward." His bright blue eyes are looking at them, mostly at Christine if McCoy has to be honest.

God, he wants to kill Jim. As McCoy nods his head in agreement, he's leading Jim away from Christine before his friend can say anything stupid.

"Did you see the body on her, Bones?" asks Jim in awe as he cranes his head around again. He gives Christine a wave, which she ignores as she goes back to running. "Damn. DAMN!"

McCoy rolls his eyes and wants to snap, "Yes, I've seen the body on her and I've seen it _naked_." He doesn't because he's better than that. Instead, McCoy leads Jim out into the hallway with a scowl on his face, which the captain notices.

"Oh sorry," Jim chirps with a grin on his face. "I didn't mean to ogle your crush…I mean _nurse_. How's that going anyways?"

McCoy shakes his head. "Kid…" he begins to say before deciding against it. Deep down, McCoy knows that he should say something to Jim, but he's afraid…

Afraid of Jim's opinion. Afraid of what Jim will think of McCoy being in a relationship. Afraid of how it would change their friendship.

"Alright," Jim relents. "I'll keep my comments to myself, you prude. You have no sense of humor, you know that, Bones?"

McCoy nods, chagrined by his friend's comments. "Hey kid, there's something I need to talk to you about," he blurts out nervously. "About Christine."

"Hold that thought because I need to hop on a conference comm with Starfleet," Jim says as he begins to walk away.

"No, Jim…"

"It can wait, Bones," Jim replies as he turns around, walking backwards in his usual careless way. "Beers in my quarters, but after the mission!"

The doctor rolls his eyes and nods in agreement. He watches his friend disappears around the corner and begins to hope that he doesn't lose his nerve before then.

* * *

They are on the shuttle with Ensign Masaro as the pilot. Jim is sitting next to the kid while McCoy and Christine are in the back, not paying attention to either of them.

Christine has her pinky finger linked with McCoy's because she knows that he hates to fly in what he refers to as a tin can.

"You're going to be fine," she says to him before they take off.

McCoy only grunts in reply.

She arches a brow and squeezes his elbow in reassurance. "You'll see," she says.

He's not convinced, but he doesn't need to say that to her. Christine can read him like a book and he watches her smile at him before they board.

They enter the planet's atmosphere without issue. An alarm goes off, but Masaro says it's nothing to be concerned about.

Jim confers with him and is agreement.

"Bones," Jim says over his shoulder, "are you going to throw up yet?"

That **fucking** kid.

McCoy snorts. "I'm going to wait until we're on the surface so I can do it on you."

Christine and Masaro chuckle. McCoy gives his girlfriend a side long look and shakes his head.

"I hate this," he says in a low voice.

Being on the Enterprise is one thing: they have a state of the art life support system _and_ escape pods in case of an emergency.

And it sure as hell beats this tin can of a shuttle.

The shuttle wobbles as it descends, making McCoy skittish. He squeezes Christine's pinky and swallows. "Fuck," he whispers as he feels sweat forming at his temples. "I _really_ hate this."

Christine nods. "You're doing great," she assures.

"I'm going to kill Jim."

"And I will _gladly_ assist."

He laughs at this.

The shuttle rocks suddenly. It isn't an accurate word for it. It _pitches_, almost rolling on its side. The motion alone is nauseating.

"What the hell?" McCoy hears Jim exclaim.

The shuttle lurches again, shaking violently as it tilts. McCoy grabs Christine's hand as a panicked cry escapes her lips.

Alarms fill the shuttle, wailing at deafening volumes as Masaro and Jim fight to steady the shuttle.

"Kirk to _Enterprise_," he hears Jim say. "Request emergency beam out for four."

There is an explosion from behind; shaking the shuttle so violently that for a moment McCoy thinks it's going to tear apart.

"Kirk to _Enterprise_…"

"I'm trying to stabilize the backup power supply to make an emergency landing," McCoy hears Masaro say.

"_Enterprise_, do you read?"

He closes his eyes and swallows hard.

* * *

_Two things happen the evening before: neither McCoy nor Christine bother to read the brief that Jim forwarded and they are still tangled in the sheets of McCoy's bed. _

_ He has her on all fours, taking Christine from behind and pumping into her with long and languid strokes. McCoy's hand is cupping her sex, two of his fingers rubbing against her clit and eliciting orgasm after orgasm from her. _

_ He pushes his entire length into her until the curve of her ass is pressing against his pubic bone. He grunts as he hears Christine cry out, her insides trembling around him. He holds himself steady as his fingers work her swollen nub. _

_ "Dammit…Leonard…" she says breathlessly. He watches as her hands fist his sheets as she cries out again and forces her hips to buck against him. _

_ McCoy chuckles. "Am I wearing you out, darlin'?" he whispers, pressing his lips against the curve of her neck. He nips at the skin and hears her whimper. _

_ "I hate you," she moans as he begins thrusting into her again. Her release is close and he can feel her quivering around his erection. "I **really** hate you." _

_ He knows that she's lying, but it still makes him smirk. The hand on her shoulder squeezes her skin as he bucks into her, his pace gradually going faster and harder – the way she wants it. His two fingers, soaked with her juices, move in time with his hips, bringing Christine closer and closer. _

_ He can hear the slapping their skin as he and Christine move against each other and the sound of her gasps. "Tell me what you want," he groans. _

_ "Leonard," he hears Christine moan. He sees her face, flushed and shiny with sweat. Her eyes are closed, her long lashes pressed against her cheeks, and her mouth is slack. "Oh god…" _

_ He thrusts again, harder and deeper, and it sets her off. McCoy hears Christine's cries and steadies her body as she bucks and arches against him. She is pulsating around him and he is egging her on as he continues driving into her. _

_ When she's done and her cries of pleasure have dwindled down to the sound of unsteady breathing, McCoy rolls her over onto her back and is pleased with his handiwork: Christine Chapel has come undone in his bed (which is not uncommon, but it still sends a thrill down McCoy's spine). Her hair is stuck to her forehead and her cheeks are bright pink. _

_ He watches her breasts move as she catches her breath – the hard tawny nipples against pale skin. McCoy leans down, pressing his lips against one of the peaks. He doesn't lick or nibble, but drives Christine crazy with the pressure and his hot breath against her sensitive skin. _

_ Christine raises her head and shakes it as she rakes a hand through McCoy's disheveled hair. "I really hate you," she says again with a grin on her face. _

_ McCoy chuckles against her breast and flicks it with his tongue. She arches her back and lets out an incoherent sound of protest. "I bet you do," he says huskily, moving up her body until his lips are against her ear, tracing his tongue against the shell of her lobe. "How many is that now?" _

_ Christine snorts in reply and manages to get McCoy on his back. _

_ He's laughing as she mounts him. He continues to laugh until Christine does this thing with her hips that makes him go absolutely crazy. He can't describe what it is, but the first time she had done it, McCoy had practically passed out when he came. _

_ McCoy's laughter dies on his lips and he lets out a groan as his hands grasp onto her thighs, digging his nails into her skin when she does it again. He bucks against her, his mouth open and his eyes closed. McCoy drags his teeth over his lower lip and grunts. "Chris," he breathes. "Jesus." _

_ "It's not so funny now, huh?" he hears her retort. _

_ McCoy cracks an eye open to see her rising and falling against him – one of his favorite sights in the universe. "No…ma'am," he groans. The pressure is building in his groin. "Not funny…" _

_ He comes and he comes hard, his body arching up off the mattress and his fingers digging deeper into Christine's thighs. McCoy can hear his voice and his incoherent words tumbling out of his mouth. His body feels alive and it's pulsing in time with his release. Part of him wonders if he's going to leave bruises on Christine while the rest of him is trying to catch his breath. _

_ When he opens his eyes, Christine is sitting on his groin and he's still inside of her, half-hard and wet. She has a smug grin on her face which on other women would look ridiculous, but on her… _

_ On **her**… _

_ McCoy pulls her down to him and kisses her with everything he's got. When they part, his lips curl into a smile and he whispers, "Woman, you're going to be the death of me…" _

_ He doesn't mean it. _

_ He knows it and she knows it. _

_ No matter how many times he teases her with that phrase, McCoy knows that he doesn't mean a single word of it. _

_ Christine brought him back to life. However this thing between them started, whatever she had done - she made his broken heart whole again. _

_ He hears her hum as she curls up next to him, their skin – warm and sticky – brushing against each other. Without a word, she reaches for his hand that is lying across his belly and intertwines their fingers. "It will be a good death," she says, settling into the nook of his deltoid. _

_ God, it will be a good death._

* * *

The shuttle rolling violently jars McCoy out of his mind. Instinctively he grabs Christine, steadying her body against his as the shuttle rolls over in a complete circle before Masaro is able to bring it upright. She is trembling against his chest and her arms wrapped around him.

McCoy knows the shuttle is crashing. He can hear the sounds of metal scraping on metal, the wail of alarms and instruments, and the frantic voice of the ensign who is piloting the craft.

"I don't know what's happening, captain!"

"Kirk to _Enterprise_! Goddammit Masaro – buckle in!"

"What if I –"

McCoy hears Jim telling Masaro to buckle in again and his tone becoming louder and louder as the water comes closer.

Part of him wants to kill Jim before the crash does. McCoy can feel rage building until he hears Christine's choked cry.

He looks at Christine, who is buckled in and pale. McCoy grabs her hand, squeezing it as her eyes meet his. Her pretty face looks astonished at the gesture and he can see that her eyes are bright with unshed tears.

_ If I'm going to die, I'm going to die happy and it's because of you,_ he thinks to himself. He gives her a comforting smile and says in a soft voice, "It's going to be okay."

She is shaking her head, tears falling down her cheeks and disappearing under the collar of her uniform.

"I love you," he whispers loud enough for her to hear. "I love you."

McCoy hears someone scream - unable to tell if the sound if coming from a man or a woman - as the shuttle crashes. He is looking at Christine - _his_ Christine - her mouth open and eyes wide.

He is pitched forward, the harness digging into his chest. McCoy lets out a strangled cry of pain.

Then his world goes dark.

He knows that it will stay that way for a long time.


	9. Chapter Nine

**Chapter Nine **

Christine knows that the ensign is dead by the way his head is lolling on his body - his neck snapped by the force of impact. She is glad that his death was quick and that more likely than not, he didn't feel a thing.

Perhaps a moment of anxiety or dread. Then nothing.

"There are four breathing apparatuses," Jim states as he holds up the devices in his hands.

Their eyes meet and Christine can see the absolute terror on his face, raw and unguarded. His light hair is stained red from a scalp laceration and his skin looks gray.

After all they just survived a shuttle crash. She probably looks the same way.

Christine nods as she grabs her medical kit as well as McCoy's. "Take the extra one," she says as she kneels next to the doctor and checks his pulse.

It's weak and thready, but it's still there. There is no time to pull out the tricorder to get a better reading.

The shuttle crashed into water and it's sinking quickly. They only have a few minutes at best before the pressure from the water makes it too difficult to open the shuttle doors.

If that happens, they will suffocate - slowly and achingly. It won't be like going to sleep. It will be miserable, long, and when they do die, it will be a welcomed death.

Except Christine doesn't want to die. She wants to live. She wants McCoy to live - even Jim.

The communicators - their only link to the _Enterprise_ - are useless or missing. The only one that is remotely working only picks up static due to the planet's atmosphere and the water that is swallowing them into oblivion.

"Are you sure you can get all of the supply bags out when the door opens?" asks Christine as Jim hands her two devices - one for her and one for McCoy. She adjusts the device over the doctor's nose and activates it.

Jim nods. "I got it," he declares. His blue eyes glance down at his friend.

She can see the muscles in his throat working as Jim swallows roughly. He knows that despite the lack of cuts and bruises, that something is terribly wrong.

"Jim," she says, bringing the captain back to reality. "I've got him."

He nods, watching her put the breathing device on. "I'll see you on shore," he says tightly before doing the same.

Christine nods and waits for the door to the shuttle open.

When it does, she instinctively grabs McCoy and begins to swim, moving their bodies through the water. She doesn't remember the ascent as all Christine is thinking is that she needs to get McCoy to the shore.

_It's going to be okay, he says. I love you. _

_ I love you._

It's all Christine can hear as she pulls them to the surface.

The comforting sound of McCoy's Southern drawl, both deep and warm: the way he says each and every word, the sound of his laughter, how he says her name - whether it be a whisper or his voice booming across Sick Bay, or when he's climaxing and he can barely put two letters together.

She is kicking her legs, pulling his dead weight through the warm water. The material of his uniform is locked in her hands and brushing against her skin. He is dangling below her, his limbs swaying with the current, and all Christine can think about is whether or not she will ever hear his voice again.

_I love you._

Christine feels her free hand break through the water, the air of the planet licking at her fingers. She kicks her legs, propelling her body until her head breaks the surface. Christine tears the breathing device from her face and inhales air - real air. Water gets in her mouth and nose, burning and causing her to cough.

She's alive - and for now, it's all that matters.

Christine pulls McCoy's head out of the water, letting it rest against her collarbone. She can feel his wet hair and the breathing apparatus against her cheek.

Treading the water, Christine surveys her surroundings until her eyes fall on the shore.

The sand has a pinkish hue and sparkles under the planet's sun that is high up in the sky. It's less than a mile from the crash site and reachable, despite her state.

Behind her, she hears Jim break through the water and the splash of the supply bags surfacing after him. He must have taken off the device because he is coughing and sputtering.

Christine turns her head and sees that he's clinging to one of the supply bags, which by some small mercy float. Jim raises his gaze to meet hers and nods his head, indicating that he's okay.

She adjusts McCoy's body against hers and uses one of the medical bags as a buoy, shifting the bulk of McCoy's frame onto it.

"Do you want me to swim him in?" asks Jim, spitting out a bit of water that splashes into his mouth.

She shakes her head. "I've got him," she replies back before she begins to move through the water.

If she thought McCoy was heavy under the water, his dead weight during the trek to the shore makes her previous exertions look like a cake walk. They stop a few times, Jim not saying a word against her efforts.

It's as if he understands that she _needs_ to do this.

When they reach the shore, the both of them are trembling and fatigued, but neither of them have ever been so happy to be on solid land.

Christine manages to pull McCoy out of the water before collapsing on her hands and knees in the sand. She coughs, feeling bile burn and rise in her throat.

She throws up in the sand. It's a mixture of her breakfast and some of the water she inhaled during the swim to shore. It's also from nerves, but Christine won't admit it.

"Chapel," Jim says, worried. "Are you okay?" He's at her side in a flash and places a hand on her shoulder. His eyes are bright, brighter than usual. Perhaps it's the water or the sand, but the blue irises look almost surreal against his pale skin.

Normally she would slap him away, cursing and yelling at him to get off of her, but now Captain Kirk is the only thing keeping her grounded.

She spits the nasty taste out of her mouth and wipes her mouth with the sleeve of her uniform. "I'm fine," she replies back in a raspy voice.

He nods and his gaze moves from her to McCoy, who is lying next to her. "Bones," he breathes. Jim maneuvers his body and is kneeling over his friend, taking off the breathing device and cupping the doctor's face in his hands. "Bones?"

Christine pulls herself to her feet and finds that her equilibrium is off balance for a moment. She steadies herself and hurries to McCoy's other side, medical bags in tow. Dropping to her knees, Christine begins to assess the situation.

_ This is your patient, not your boyfriend_, she thinks to herself. It will become her mantra in the coming moments when all hell breaks loose.

McCoy is unnaturally pale, as if the blood has been drained out of the doctor's body, and clammy to the touch. His wet hair is sticking to his forehead; the dark brown locks a stark contrast against his skin. She hears him breathing through parted lips that have lost their coloring, appearing gray and lifeless. In fact, his chest is barely moving as McCoy lies on the sand terrain.

Christine gets the tricorder out with steady hands and by some mercy, the device is working. She silently gives her blessing to modern technology as she prepares to scan McCoy. Before she raises it to his head, Christine sees the problem immediately.

McCoy's normally flat stomach is distended.

The harness.

She remembers his cry of pain before blacking out. When she came around, McCoy was already unconscious and slack in his bonds.

"What?" Jim asks the panic rising in his voice. "Chapel, what is it?"

Christine looks up and sees the captain's face. It catches her off guard to see tears in Jim's eyes.

"Chapel," Jim begs, his lips trembling. "Chapel…please…" He looks down at McCoy's face cupped in his hands and shakes his head. "Chris…"

Christine touches his arm. "Jim, listen to me," she says evenly. "I need you to remain calm, okay?"

Her words are Jim's undoing and he begins to weep, his head bowed over his best friend's unconscious form. He's shaking his head and his cries become louder until he's sobbing uncontrollably.

It's his best friend in peril rather than Jim and while McCoy has dealt with the captain's brushes with death, Jim has not.

"Jim," Christine says, squeezing his sleeve. "Jim, it's going to be all right."

It's a lie. She doesn't know if it's going to be all right, but a white lie couldn't hurt. Especially at a time like this.

"Jim, I need you to help me remove his shirt. He has air trapped in his abdominal cavity and I need to relieve the pressure before he goes into shock," Christine explains as she riffles through the medical bag. She gives him a shake. "Are you with me?"

Jim looks up, his face lined with tear tracks, and nods. He sets about removing McCoy's jacket and uniform top as Christine finds the instruments she'll need.

When Jim sees the laser scalpel, his eyes go wide.

"I need to make an incision," Christine calmly explains. She sees Jim reaching for McCoy's limp hand and squeezes it as she cuts into him. She winces as the crimson fluid runs over pale, muscled skin.

_She is pressing her lips against his stomach, blowing raspberries because she knows McCoy is ticklish under his ribcage. He curses and wiggles, but he's laughing. _

_ He's always laughing._

Christine hears the sound of Jim leaning away and retching into the sand.

It's all too much. It's too much for the both of them.

As she works on McCoy, Christine hears Jim whispering to him. His voice is trembling and barely above a whisper, but she can still hear him.

"Please don't die, Bones. Wake up," Jim moans, his voice hitching as he brushes a shivering hand through McCoy's hair. "Please."

Christine swallows roughly and blinks her eyes rapidly to dispel the tears in her eyes. She doesn't look up, afraid to meet Jim's eyes, and continues on. With a well-placed - and completely improvised – chest tube, Christine listens to what happens next.

The excess air is rushing out of McCoy's bare chest and Christine watches his chest hitch and then move steadily. Grabbing the tricorder, Christine begins to scan him, studying his vitals with a critical eye.

"What's happening?" asks Jim, seemingly calm.

By some small miracle, McCoy's vitals are holding steady: there is no internal bleeding or broken bones. His ribs are bruised, but Christine is not surprised. McCoy has a concussion (then again, she and Jim probably do as well) and his brain activity indicates that he's teetering on the edge of slipping into a coma.

Without the proper medical equipment, Christine knows that if the doctor were to fall into a coma, he would never wake up. Plain and simple.

"Chris," Jim pleads. "What's happening?"

Their eyes meet again. Jim is completely terrified and falling apart in front of her.

Part of her that knows McCoy would be morbidly amused if he were conscious. Christine can also picture him grumbling, "Serves that son of a bitch right after all of the shit he's put _me_ through!"

"He's holding on," Christine replies as she puts the tricorder down.

Jim is crying again, his body wracked with sobs and heaving breaths.

"Jim," she says as she touches his shoulder. "I need your help. I need you to find shelter so we can make Leonard comfortable."

His face contorts, as if Christine told him that the doctor was dead.

She shakes him. "Jim," she says her tone harsher than before. "Do you understand me?"

He nods, stunned. "Okay," he finally replies, slowly rising to his feet.

Christine can see that the scalp laceration is still bleeding and that the captain is favoring his ribs. Once they are situated in a makeshift shelter, she can tend to his wounds, then her own.

She watches Jim stumbling away, in search of shelter. As he disappears through the trees, Christine sets about removing the chest tube from the incision. As she's using the dermal simulator to close the wound, Christine looks down at McCoy.

He is so still with the exception of his breathing. His eyelids don't twitch with movement and he doesn't grumble like he does when sleeping.

She loves watching him sleep. At first, it was because sleep was the only time McCoy looked remotely peaceful. His ever present scowl was gone from his handsome features and he looked…well…_beautiful_. As their relationship progressed, Christine found that she felt like she was protecting him as he slept.

Now she would give anything to see his hazel eyes again.

She has no idea how many minutes pass, but when the dermal simulator beeps Jim reappears on the beach.

He is winded from his trek and his eyes are swollen from crying. The tip of his nose is flushed from being wiped and Jim looks exhausted. "I found a cave," he states, his eyes wandering to McCoy then back to Christine. "It's a five minute walk from here. I'll take the supply bags first, and then come back for you both."

He's gone again, balancing the supply bags as he leaves the beach. Minutes tick by as Christine keeps herself occupied by watching over McCoy with the tricorder in hand.

"Okay," Jim declares as he sinks to the sand.

Christine puts away the medical instruments and grabs McCoy's discarded clothing. "Don't throw him over your shoulder," she instructs, watching Jim as he slides his arms under McCoy's shoulders and knees.

He situates the doctor against his chest, wincing at the additional weight, and whispers, "Bones, lay off the steak dinners, okay?"

Christine would normally laugh at the comment, but she's so tired that she only smirks. In silence, Jim leads her to the cave where he has laid out one of the sleeping bags – Masaro's sleeping bag – on the cave's limestone-like floor. Jim gently lays McCoy down the fabric and arranges the doctor so that he's comfortable.

It's such a tender gesture that it takes every fiber in Christine's body not to cry. She clears her throat and drops the medical bags in her hands onto the floor. "Remove the rest of his clothing," she says. "Leave his underwear, but everything else needs to be laid out to dry."

"I think he packed an extra uniform," Jim replies as he sets about untying McCoy's boots. He puts them aside and rolls the doctor's sodden socks off his feet, followed by his pants.

Christine can see bruises forming at McCoy's chest as well as the rest of his body as she hands Jim another sleeping bag to lie over the doctor. She notices blood on the sleeve of his uniform. She is positive that it wasn't there while they were on the beach.

Christine goes to the doctor and turns his head, then frowns. "Hand me my kit, will you?" she asks as she rolls McCoy to his side to get a better look at the laceration behind his ear. His hair is sticky with blood, but the laceration itself doesn't look life threatening.

"Is it bad?" asks Jim as he hands over the bag.

Christine shakes her head. "It doesn't help," is all she says as she begins cleaning the wound.

"Do you need me to do anything?"

Christine is taking out a hypospray and loading it up with penicillin. "I have it covered," she replies as she presses the hypospray to McCoy's neck, triggering it. She is off in her own little world, working on McCoy and ignoring everything else.

At some point, Jim leaves the cave and comes back with an armful of wood. Christine glances up and sees him arranging it so he can start a fire before the sunsets over the horizon and the chill of nightfall comes.

She is unzipping McCoy's sleeping bag so she can drape it over him like a blanket when Jim finally says something.

"Chapel, you did good." His voice is thick with emotion and fatigue.

Christine looks up and sees him glancing over his shoulder. "Thanks," she replies back as she reaches for a blanket to place under McCoy's head. "You too."

She hears him snort in disagreement, probably embarrassed by his earlier display. Christine doesn't say anything and instead looks down at McCoy.

He's still breathing, the rise and fall of his chest still steady, but that is the only movement. His hair is nearly dry and disheveled – the way she likes it.

_ "You look like an old man," she says, ruffling his hair. _

_ He arches a brow and ducks out of her reach to fix his hair. "I am an old man, remember?"_

Christine brushes a lock off of his forehead, feeling the thick strands under her fingers. She moves her thumb over his forehead and down the side of McCoy's face until she is cupping his cheek. Christine leans down, her mouth hovering near his ear and swallows.

If she speaks, will he actually hear her somewhere in the darkness? She cannot say.

"Leonard, I love you, too," she whispers, her voice shaking. "Now come back to me."


	10. Chapter Ten

**Chapter Ten**

The next morning, Christine and Jim discover two things. The first is that McCoy is still alive, having survived the night sandwiched between their bodies. Some of his color has returned and his vitals are holding strong. His brain activity has increased, but Christine tells Jim that the doctor isn't out of the woods yet.

The second thing is that the communicator is water logged and non-functioning. At the current moment, Jim and Christine are standing over the device, their arms crossed and brows furrowed in annoyance.

"It could be worse," Christine laments, earning a glare from Jim.

Jim squats down, staring at the communicator. "I don't think it _could_ get any worse, Chapel," he snaps, rubbing the stubble on his chin.

_Leonard could die and I would have to stuck with you on this fucking planet_, Christine bitterly thinks. She watches the muscles of Jim's bare back move as he shifts his body.

As it turned out, Jim had gotten fairly banged up. Neither of them knew it until Christine helped him remove his shirt and jacket. As soon as Jim was shirtless, Christine shook her head at the bruises and cuts. She went about cleaning up the captain before having him help her survey the damage done to her own body.

To Christine's surprise, Jim didn't make any crude remarks about her stripping off the top portion of her uniform and instead, opted to help patch her own injuries under the nurse's careful instructions.

"I'm going down to the beach and getting some sand," Jim declares as he rises to his feet.

Christine looks at him with a quizzical expression. "Sand?"

"Yes, sand," Jim replies. "Do we have something that I can use to unscrew the comm?"

"What will sand do?"

"I'm going to take the communicator apart and put it in sand to dry out the battery," he states as he walks to the mouth of the cave. He glances down at McCoy before departing.

Christine watches as Jim walks away from the cave, the sun on his back and the determined carriage of his body. She sits down next to McCoy, pulling her knees to her chest and rests her head on her kneecaps.

"I know that you and I never spoke about going on a vacation, but can I just say that is not what I had in mind," she mutters to McCoy's unconscious form. She reaches for his arm, squeezing his bicep, feeling the warmth of his skin. Without another word, Christine gets up and grabs one of the toiletry bags from the pile that Jim made the night before.

Just happenstance, there is a large pond several paces away from the cave. The water is clear and warm and while it's not a shower on board the _Enterprise_, it will do.

Christine strips off her pants, leaving her in her underwear and a tank top, and walks to the pond. On the shore, she takes off the rest of her clothing and wades into the water with the toiletry bag in her hand. Christine dunks herself under the surface, relishing the water against her skin.

She should be scared, given the circumstances, but Christine is simply too tired to be scared.

She shampoos her hair, which she also uses to wash off the grime that has accumulated during the night. She doesn't need to shave, silently thanking Carol for talking her into laser hair removal during their second year at the Academy.

_"Carol, that is just plain silly!" she says while rolling her eyes. _

_Carol arches a perfect brow and leans in as they sit on Christine's bed. They're supposed to be studying, but instead are reading fashion magazines on their respective PADDs. "Chris, what happens if you're on a mission with a really good looking bloke and the shuttle crashes?" _

_"Unlikely, but go on." _

_"That will be your chance to seduce him and you're going to have hairy bits!"_

The memory makes her laugh and ache for her best friend. Christine ducks herself again and when she comes back up, she hears someone calling her name.

By someone, it's Jim.

"Chapel, can you at least…oh _shit_!" Jim stutters upon seeing Christine in the water. His mouth is open, gaping at her as he realizes that she's naked.

Christine covers her breasts and sinks down to her collarbone. "Goddammit Jim," she hisses.

"You're naked," he says dumbly, staring at her discarded clothing.

"No _really_? What on earth gave you that idea?"

"Um…"

"Jim," Christine yells, splashing water at him. "Turn the fuck around!"

"Sorry!" he apologizes, turning around so that his back is facing her.

Christine gets out of the water, bag in tow, and keeps her eye on Jim as she slips on her underwear. "Did you find your sand?" she snaps.

"Yeah, I found my sand," Jim replies back, sarcasm oozing in his voice. He turns his head slightly as Christine to pulling on her bra.

"Jim!"

"Sorry!"

"Jesus," she mutters under her breath, pulling her tank top over her head. "Okay, what is it?"

Jim turns around, getting an eyeful of Christine's less than clothe state as well as the scowl on her face. He looks like he wants to make a joke, but refrains in fear of being slaughtered on the spot. "Can I use one of the tweezers to unscrew the communicator?"

"You," Christine starts, growing furious. "You came down here to ask to use a _tweezer_? Jim – for fuck's sake – just use it!" She is stomping away, heading back to the cave with Jim trailing behind her.

"I was trying to be polite!"

Christine snorts. "You know how you can be polite? Stop staring at my ass!"

"I was…well…for like a minute, but Chapel," Jim stammers. He's walking next to her and has a ghost of a grin on his face. "It's a very nice ass."

Christine stops walking and gapes at him. After a moment, she starts smacking him with the toiletry bag over his loud protests. "I am not an object, you arrogant piece of shit!"

"Stop hitting me, Chapel! Ow! That was my ribs!"

"How would you like it if I objectified you?"

"Chapel! Stop! Ow! That was my head! Jesus!"

"You vile, awful excuse of a human being!"

"Fuck! What the hell did you pack in that thing!"

Christine hits Jim's cheek and watches his head snap from the sheer force of the bag. She is fuming when he turns back to her, clutching his face.

"Remind me to _never_ piss you off again," Jim says, dumbfounded.

Christine turns on her heel and heads back into the cave, dropping her bag next to her makeshift bed, and grabs her pants. She pulls them on and grabs her deodorant that she was smart enough to pack. As she's applying it, Jim reappears at the mouth of the cave, looking like he's about to get his head bitten off if he says anything. She really wants to throw the item in her hand at his head, but decides against it.

"My medical bag is over there, next to the food bag," she states. "Don't use Leonard's. He will kill you if you do."

"Not if you kill me first," Jim quips as he goes to get the aforementioned bag, "You have a mean backhand, you know that?"

Christine chuckles at the comment as she looks down at McCoy's handsome face. "So I've been told."

* * *

Two days later it's raining.

Raining isn't even an accurate word for it – water is literally coming down in buckets and it's so loud that Jim and Christine feel like they are stuck in a tin can as they wait out the storm in the cave.

There was enough food (thanks to Christine showing Jim how to hunt whilst using a phaser) and firewood to last them a few days if the storm didn't let up.

It was a demented version of camping.

At least Christine and Jim had come to a temporary truce: he promises not to come anywhere near the pond when she's bathing and she promises not to use bodily force on him.

As a crack of thunder roars in the sky, they are playing a game of Go-Fish with a deck of cards that Masaro had packed in his bag.

"If he wakes up, he's going to kill us both," Christine says she picks up a card off of McCoy's blanket covered stomach.

Jim shrugs nonchalantly. "We're trying to be inclusive. Got any fours?"

"Inclusive," Christine questions, her brow arched. "We're using him as a table, Jim."

"He's being useful. So…any fours?"

"No, go fish."

Jim reaches for the pile of cards on McCoy's stomach and draws one, then two, then a few more until he gets the card he was originally seeking. "Bingo!" he says as he settles back on his rump. They continue to play until Jim's voice breaks the silence. "I never peg you for someone who wouldn't bitch about camping."

"There's a lot you don't know about me," Christine replies curtly.

"So…then tell me."

"Absolutely not. Got any sixes?"

Jim hands her two cards with a frustrated countenance on his face. "Ah come on, Chapel," he groans. "I'm trying to make conversation here, okay? Just play along!"

Christine knows he's right and exhales deeply. "Fine," she says, shifting her body, "what do you want to know?"

"Watch your tone, young lady," Jim teases. She sticks her tongue out at him and he fledges a mock hurt. "Why nursing? I know you have a brother at Starfleet and another one on the _Kennedy_, but neither of them are in the medical field."

Christine shrugs and is uncomfortable. "A friend of mine from high school got cancer during our junior year at Berkeley."

"And? I know there's an 'and' in there."

"She didn't make it," Christine responses. "Hannah died during what would have been her final semester and I decided to become a nurse because I saw what her hospice nurses did for her and her family. I wanted to do that rather than being an engineer like Trevor or my mom or a lawyer like Aaron and my dad."

"What did your family think of it?"

"My parents were proud, a little confused at first, but proud. Trevor is always game for making waves and helped me study for the exams to get into the program at the Academy. Aaron would bring me beer during exams week when he was in town."

"Have you thought about becoming a doctor?" asks Jim.

Christine makes a face. "And miss out on all of _this_? Never!" she jokes, gesturing as their surroundings. She draws her lower lip with her teeth and shrugs again. "I've thought about it, even took the MCAT, but…I'm not sure if I want to be a doctor."

"They are pretty sadistic," Jim sighs, gesturing towards McCoy.

Christine giggles. "He's not _that_ bad, Jim. You just know how to push his buttons."

"I've been pushing his buttons from the minute we met and I wasn't even trying!" Jim rolls his eyes and shuffles through the cards that are fanned out in his hand. "Maybe after this, he'll loosen up more. Did you know that he went back to his quarters to go to bed after we went to that club? We weren't even there for two hours and Bones goes back to bed!"

Christine snorts in laughter, knowing full well that McCoy was not alone in his bed. They were between the tangle of sheets together, their bodies pressing up against each other with delicious friction. "Oh? Who told you that?"

"He did!" Jim gets a droll look on his face. "At least, I _think_ he did. Anyway…any threes?"

Christine shakes her head and watches Jim reach for the cards. "After this round, I need to run the tricorder over him," Christine tells Jim, earning a grimace from the captain.

His brow furrows with worry and his blue eyes, bright only moments ago, go dark. Jim nods his head and remains silent. His change in mood does not go unnoticed.

"Jim," Christine says, putting her cards down in her lap, "he's getting better. Leonard's vitals are improving by the hour and…"

"He's still not awake," Jim grunts, glancing at her. "Why isn't he awake?" The latter part sounds like a plea and Christine swears that she can hear Jim's voice cracking with emotion.

Christine tilts her head and nods. "Because he's letting us use him as a card table," she quips, trying to lighten the mood.

A moment passes, followed by another before Jim's laughter fills the cave, it's resonates bouncing off the stone walls. He's laughing so hard that he drops his cards into his lap and covers his eyes, his shoulders shaking.

"Nice," he finally says as his amusement passes. Jim has a big grin on his face as he picks up his cards and moves onto his stomach. "Well played, Chapel."

She shrugs casually. "I do what I can," she states as she fiddles with her cards. "Your turn, Jim."

They continue the rest of the card game in comfortable silence. The rain is starting to lighten up, not by much, but it's far less deafening than before.

Christine runs the tricorder and is pleased with the latest readout. She walks the device over to Jim, who is preparing their dinner by the fire, and explains the results to him.

His face lights up and he's practically bouncing off walls. "Does this mean he'll wake up soon?" Jim asks, following Christine around the cave as she prepares to go down to the pond.

"It depends on him," she answers in a clinical tone as she leaves the cave for a bit.

When she comes back, dinner is ready and Jim is finishing administering several hyposprays to McCoy like she had shown him.

Jim turns around as Christine changes into fresh clothing and refrains from making lewd comments. They eat dinner.

They talk and while they bicker at times, it's better than silence. After dinner, as Jim is cleaning up after their meal, Christine is checking on McCoy again.

"So…" Jim says he's putting their things away.

"Yes Jim?" she asks, not looking up. She's too busy watching McCoy respond to stimuli, in this case, her hand stroking his hair.

His eyes are moving rapidly under his lids and he readjusted his head, seemingly trying to press himself into her touch. McCoy is still pale, with dark bruises under his lashes, but his usual golden color is returning.

"We haven't tried to kill each other today," Jim starts. "Does this mean we're bonding, Chapel?"

She lets out a sigh and arches her brow in mild annoyance. "Don't push your luck, captain."

Jim just chuckles in reply.


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Chapter Eleven**

It's late when he eventually comes back to himself.

Or, at least, he thinks it is.

McCoy wakes with a start, his eyes snapping open. It's nothing like he expected or what his medical training dictated - his surroundings are clear and his senses alert. McCoy shifts his head, getting a better angle to view the rocks that loom over him.

He knows he's not dead, not by a long shot. His body hurts - especially his chest, which feels like a Klingon tap danced on it - and he is breathing. McCoy's temples pulse with a dull ache and he feels warm, sticky even. He lifts his head and sees the blankets piled on top of him for a brief moment before deciding that moving is a horrible idea. Swallowing roughly, he lets a weak groan escape his dried lips.

Something shifts against him on his left side and McCoy hears a man's voice muttering incoherently, their voice thick with sleep.

McCoy turns his head and sees a mop of light brown hair poking out of a sleeping bag. As McCoy's eyes adjust to the darkness, he can make out the familiar curve of Jim's face.

The captain throws his arm over his face, obscuring his eyes as he sleeps, and tilts his head away from McCoy.

McCoy watches Jim sleep for a while longer before he goes back to making sense of his surroundings.

Clearly, he and Jim are alive and judging by the stubble on Jim's jaw, they have been here for a few days. Had he been unconscious the entire time? Where did the shuttle crash? Where is the shuttle anyways and how come they aren't on the _Enterprise_?

And where is Christine?

_Christine._

Panic overwhelms him at the very thought of her name. Gasping, McCoy props himself up on his elbows and grunts as his chest burns in pain.

She's not next to him.

_Nonononononono_, he thinks, his mind reeling. _Please no_.

He is scrambling to get up, but finds that his limbs are not cooperating and that the pain in his chest is starting to overwhelm him. McCoy swallows back a sob as his eyes begin to water uncontrollably.

_Please don't be dead_, McCoy screams inside his head. _Please god, don't do this to me!_

"Whoa!" he hears a familiar voice say. He can hear them moving, the soles of their feet slapping against the ground as they rush to him.

His throat is constricting from despair and he feels like his world is caving in around him. His blood is roaring in his ears as he's gasping for air. Of course fate would pull such a cruel joke on him: let him be happy, then take it away so violently.

"Whoa...Leonard. Len. Len! Calm down!"

There is a cool hand on his bare shoulder and he flinches while blinking back tears. His breath hitches in his chest and he begins to cry.

"Leonard," says the voice again as they drop down next to him. Their hands are on his shoulders, gently shaking him and coaxing him back to reality. "Leonard, it's okay. You're okay."

He blinks upon seeing a pair of hazel eyes staring at him. _Her_ hazel eyes. "Chris?" he whispers, watching her nod. "Oh god...I thought...I didn't..." McCoy grabs her forearms, feeling her skin underneath his fingers, and lets out a sob. "Chris...oh god..."

McCoy feels himself being pulled into her arms as his body is wracked with sobs. He buries his head into the curve of her neck and closes his eyes. He smells her - the sweet scent of her skin like a nectar to him - and listens to her soft voice whispering comforting words in his ear. Her fingers are running through his dirty hair, massaging his scalp and keeping him anchored to what's happening.

"I thought I lost you," he whimpers into her shoulder, choking on his voice as his emotions get the best of him.

Her lips press against his forehead. "I'm right here," she whispers back to him. Her hair is tickling his nose, but it doesn't matter.

She's alive. He's alive.

McCoy sinks into her embrace and lets out a sigh as he snakes his arms around her, pulling her closer to him. "God, I love you," he whispers into her hair.

Her lips are curling into a smile against his forehead and she pulls back enough to say, "I love you, too." She brushes his hair off his forehead and cradles his head to her body. "Next time you just say it somewhere normal like a turbolift or a bedroom? Just not in a crashing shuttle."

McCoy guffaws and lifts his head off her shoulder to look her in the eye.

Christine has a cut over her brow and a scrape on her chin that looks like it may bruise. Her hair is loose over her shoulders, wavy from being air dried, and she looks absolutely exhausted.

"Duly noted," he replies before leaning in to kiss her gently on the lips. His teeth feel fuzzy and he's sure that his breath stinks, but McCoy couldn't give two shits. Their lips are pressed together and electricity is shooting down his spine.

"Chapel...keep it down, will you?" he hears Jim grumbling as they pull apart. The captain turns over with a dour look on his face. "Just because you can't sleep..._Bones_?"

Before McCoy can respond, Jim launches himself at him and pulls the doctor into a fierce bear hug. McCoy lets out a grunt of pain as Jim crushes him against his chest, refusing to let go.

"Jesus Jim!" Christine exclaims. "Let the man breathe!"

When Jim pulls back, his eyes are bright with unshed tears, which surprises McCoy. To see Jim so unguarded with his emotions is rare and McCoy can count on one hand the times he's seen the captain cry.

He can feel Jim's fingernails digging into his biceps, as if to keep McCoy from disappearing.

The sound of the tricorder breaks the silence. McCoy looks over his shoulder to see Christine quietly scanning him. Their eyes meet and she gives him a reassuring smile.

"What happened?" asks McCoy as he turns back to Jim. "I mean...I know the shuttle crashed, but..." His voice trails off and he realizes that someone is missing. "Where's that ensign?"

Jim exchanges a glance with Christine, whose face McCoy can't see. "Ensign Masaro is dead," Jim replies softly.

McCoy hisses through his teeth. "Oh Jim..."

"Chapel said it was instant - he didn't buckle in and broke his neck on impact," Jim explains as he lets go of McCoy. The doctor watches Jim kicking off his sleeping bag, revealing that he's only wearing his underwear - Starfleet issued boxer briefs, and makes himself comfortable. "We crashed into the water, which is probably why the three of us aren't dead."

Christine snorts. "That or a fucking miracle," she quips.

"Oh shut up," Jim hisses. He casts her an endearing look before turning back to McCoy.

"Why didn't the _Enterprise_ beam us out?" asks McCoy. He turns his head to look at Christine. "Why are we still here?"

Jim sighs. "Something happened with our connection - I'm guessing the atmosphere had something to do with it. We lost all but one of our communicators and that one is currently sitting in a bag of sand in hopes I can get the battery to work again."

"Sand?" McCoy inquires with a doubtful tone.

Jim rolls his eyes. "It's not like we have rice, Bones."

"Couldn't we just order some?" McCoy quips, earning a glare from Jim. He decides to quickly change the subject. "How long have we've been here?"

"Five days," Christine replies as she turns off the tricorder. McCoy looks at her and sees the dark look on her face. "You've been unconscious the entire time."

McCoy's mouth falls open and he feels sick to his stomach.

Five days? He's been unconscious for five days? It explains why Jim was so emotional at seeing McCoy awake and the look of relief on Christine's face.

"Five..._days_..." his voice trails off and he touches his jaw, feeling stubble under his fingers. "What happened?"

"You had abdominal trauma caused by the harness," Christine explains. "The force of impact caused you to bruise your diaphragm and I had to release excess air from your stomach."

Jim snorts. "She cut into your stomach and used a penlight for a chest tube!"

McCoy looks down at his stomach and sees a smear of blood on his skin, which is surprisingly pale. There are some bruises, but no mark from the incision Christine made that saved his life. He swallows hard.

He was _thisclose_ to death.

"Bones?" he hears Jim say.

McCoy looks up and sees the concern in his friend's eyes. "I'm fine," he replies to Jim's unasked question and sees the tension leave Jim's face. "I'm just..."

"Jim," he hears Christine say, "why don't you take Leonard to down to the pond to get cleaned up while I make him something to eat?"

Jim nods and gets off his sleeping bag to fetch a few things.

McCoy turns to Christine with a helpless expression on his face. "_Five days_?" he asks in disbelief. "Jesus..."

"It's over now," Christine assures as she caresses his bare shoulder.

McCoy can see the relief in her eyes. He can tell that she's holding her emotions in in an effort not to frighten him more than he already is. He gives her a smile, which she returns. "Chris," he says, "thank you."

As she's about to reply (probably to say it was nothing, which McCoy knows it most certainly was not), Jim is back and has put on a shirt. He's also carrying a blanket looks like there's rocks inside of it.

It is filled with what McCoy suspects is a fresh change of clothing and his toiletry bag if it hadn't been lost in the crash.

"Ready?" asks Jim. When McCoy nods, Jim and Christine help him to his feet.

He is weak. He body has taken a Jim Kirk type of beating and while his friend is used to it, McCoy is not. He wobbles on his feet and finds himself leaning heavily against the captain, who puts McCoy's arm around his shoulders.

"That's it, Bones. One foot in front of the other," says Jim. There is a hint of amusement in his voice.

McCoy scowls. "Shut up, kid."

* * *

McCoy is waist deep in the pond, whose water is so clear that it looks like glass, and washing himself down. It's a process, as the slightest movement makes him exhausted, but at least he has Jim to keep him company.

The planet on a whole isn't bad, as far as being stranded on a planet goes. The weather is warm, albeit slightly humid (reminding him of Georgia during the spring), and from what Jim has told him, there's only been one storm since their unexpected arrival.

The vegetation on the planet is a mix of various shades of purple growing on light grey rocks. The sand that is covering the beach as well as the path to the pond is a light pink and feels soft under the soles of McCoy's bare feet.

Jim is sitting on the shore, watching him cautiously. Every so often, he asks McCoy if he needs help to which the doctor politely declines.

Once McCoy feels like his head has been thoroughly shampooed, he dunks himself into the warm water and shakes out the soapy solution. When he comes up for air, he starts feeling like himself again.

"You okay, Bones?" asks Jim as he starts to his feet.

McCoy brushes rivets of water out of his eyes and nods. "Yeah," he replies, "I'm fine, kid. Just relax and enjoy the show."

He hears Jim snort in disgust, making McCoy laugh.

"Speaking of a show," Jim says, "I got an eyeful of Chapel."

McCoy arches his brow and looks at Jim. The kid doesn't look smug, which is surprising. He almost looks – embarrassed. "Should I even ask what happened?"

"It was stupid, to be honest," Jim says as he gets to his feet and begins pacing the shore. "I was grabbing some sand from the beach and when I got back, she wasn't at the cave. Her toiletry bag was gone, so I came down here. I just didn't realize that she was going to be naked."

McCoy can feel his skin burning and begins to plot how he can kill Jim in his sleep.

"She wasn't happy about it. I made a comment about her ass – which incidentally, Bones, is really _amazing_ – and she began beating the shit out of me with her bag," Jim grumbles as he rakes a hand through his unruly hair. He turns to his friend and shrugs. "That girl has a mean backhand. I mean – Jesus!"

McCoy is tickled by Jim's comment and his girlfriend's reaction. He kind of wishes that he was awake to witness her full scale attack on Jim's person and ends up shaking his head. "I'm surprised that she didn't kill you," he says as he begins soaping up his body, removing the grim that accumulated on his skin.

"Nah," Jim replies. "I doubt she would do that."

McCoy shrugs noncommittally.

"We did make a truce. I don't come down here when she's around or make comments about her body or she won't bludgeon me to death."

"Her words or yours?"

"Mostly mine. Chapel was a bit more colorful when stating the terms," Jim admits with a smile on his face. He tilts his head at McCoy and crosses his arms over his chest. "I'm glad you convinced her to come back to the _Enterprise_, Bones. If she hadn't been here…" His voice dies.

McCoy looks up and sees Jim's face, which is crumbling. The captain is furiously wiping his eyes and trying to hide the blotchiness of his cheeks, which happens when he cries. "Jim…" McCoy says, feeling his heart sink. "Kid…"

"I'm fine," Jim sniffles, wiping his nose on the back of his hand.

"You are _not_ fine," McCoy counters as he hurriedly washes off the soap from his skin. He wades through the water until he's on shore and can grab the waiting blanket. He fastens it to his waist and walks over to Jim, who has begun to cry again.

As soon as McCoy is within arm's reach, he pulls Jim into a hug. He can feel Jim's body shaking as he buries his head into the doctor's shoulder in a vain effort to muffle his cries. McCoy is whispering in his ear, saying anything he can think of that would soothe his friend.

Jim's tears are commingling with the water from the pond on McCoy's skin and he's struggling to keep himself upright.

"Shit kid," McCoy says as he maneuvers them to sit on the shore. He still has Jim in his arms and is stroking his hair as the captain whimpers. "Everything is okay. I'm more or less in one piece…you don't need to worry anymore."

"How do you do it?" Jim stutters through his tears.

McCoy raised a brow. "Do what?"

"Keep calm when I do stupid shit."

McCoy is caught off guard by Jim's answer and shrugs. "I guess I'm used to it at this point," he answers truthfully. He feels Jim pull away. The kid's face is flushed from crying and his eyes are red.

"Just seeing you on the shuttle's floor…I woke up after Chapel got you out of your harness," Jim explains, his voice rough with unreleased emotion. He wipes away more tears and breathes deeply. "I _knew_ something was wrong. She didn't even need to say anything…I just saw you."

McCoy hears Jim's ragged sobs and pulls him closer. "I'm fine now," he says. _God, I sound like him!_

"You were barely moving…I thought you were dead until I saw your chest move," Jim cries. "I thought I had lost you and that I was going to be stuck with Chapel for the rest of my life on this _fucking planet_!"

McCoy chuckles at the latter part of what Jim is saying. "Chapel isn't so bad," he laughs.

"True," Jim says as he lifts his head off of McCoy's shoulder, "but you're my best friend. You're the only _real_ family I've got."

"I know," McCoy sighs, ruffling Jim's hair. "Right back at you, kid."

Jim nods and wipes his nose. After a moment of silence, he says, "You are _never_ allowed to die, okay? That's an order."

"Whatever you say," McCoy quips. He shivers and realizes that he's wearing just a blanket around his waist. If he gets sick, Christine will kill him _and_ Jim. "Let's get out of here. Christine will have both of our asses if I end up catching a cold."

Once McCoy is dressed, they make their way back to the cave just as the sun is rising over the horizon. Christine is asleep when they arrive and both men go to great lengths to be quiet.

"She's barely slept," Jim shares as he watches McCoy eat.

McCoy glances over his shoulder towards the lump that is his girlfriend. Her face is hidden by the blankets that were once covering his body. "Really?" he asks, turning back to Jim.

"Yeah," Jim answers. "I mean, both of us were pretty worried about you, but I would wake up in the middle of the night and she would be watching over you. I probably should have told her to go back to sleep, but I didn't have the heart to do it."

"You're turning into a softie, kid," McCoy wisecracks with a big grin on his face.

Jim makes a face. "Well…don't tell _her_ that," he hisses. "I need some air of authority, Bones!"

McCoy rolls his eyes and continues to eat. After he's finished and the dishes are cleaned, he and Jim go back to the sleeping area and join Christine.

Once he's sure that Jim is passed out next to him, McCoy rolls over and faces Christine, whose pretty features are relaxed from sleep. He reaches out and brushes an eyelash off her cheek, which unexpectedly rouses her. McCoy watches her eyes blink as she wakes up. She looks confused for a moment until she sees him staring at her with an apologetic expression.

"Sorry," he whispers, inching closer to her. "I thought I wouldn't wake you."

Christine shakes her head and scoots over to him, pressing herself against his body. Her head drops into the crook of his arm and she lets out a sigh. "It's fine," she says in a drowsy voice. "I thought it was Jim for a moment."

McCoy chuckles. "He told me about the pond incident," he admits, watching a smug grin form on Christine's lips.

"Serves him right, the little shit," she mutters, nuzzling his arm with her cheek. Christine closes her eyes and for a moment, McCoy thinks she's fallen asleep again. "He was really worried about you."

McCoy nods. "We talked," he says. "He told me."

"I never thought I would see Jim Kirk have a full on meltdown," she yawns. "I thought I was going to have to sedate him."

"Why didn't you?"

"The both of you outweigh by me fifty pounds, _at least_!" she quietly exclaims, much to McCoy's amusement. "I needed the muscle."

"Smart woman," McCoy teases as he plants a kiss on her temple. He cups her cheek, stroking the skin with his thumb.

"So I've heard," she quips.

McCoy kisses her on the lips instead of saying something. He relishes the feeling of her lips against his, hers being soft and his dry from being ill. If Jim wasn't laying right next to them, he would have his way with her. Instead, he pulls back with a lazy grin. "You saved my life," he whispers.

"With a penlight," Christine counters.

He shrugs. "Sometimes we need to be imaginative." This earns a giggle. "Chris, in all seriousness, thank you. I have no idea how you managed to pull it off, but thank you."

"You had just told me that you loved me," she whispers to him. "There was no way I was going to let you die before I could say it back."

"That was an asshole thing of me to do."

"Not really," she reasons, as Christine always does. "You thought that we were going to die."

"I wanted to tell you how I felt for a while," he admits.

"Why didn't you?"

"Because I'm a chicken shit."

Christine shakes her head and reaches up to dry a lock of McCoy's drying hair off his forehead. "You're _my_ chicken shit," she declares.

"I will always be your chicken shit," McCoy says into her hair. He nuzzles her and plants a kiss on the top of her head. "For as long as you'll have me." He glances down at her and smiles. "C'mere."

They arrange themselves so that Christine's back is pressed up against the front of his body. McCoy drapes an arm over her waist and pulls her closer to him under the blankets.

"What about Jim?" she murmurs.

"I don't give a _fuck_ about Jim. I almost died and now I want to fall asleep with my girlfriend in my arms," McCoy snips. "Now let me do what I want, woman!"


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Chapter Twelve**

The days creep by and McCoy's strength returns. By the third day since he has woken up, he finds that he is no longer exhausted after simple movements.

He almost - _ALMOST_ - feels pity for Jim and all of the times he's bitched about being tired after whatever scrape he got into. McCoy is a doctor and understands that healing can take a toll on someone's energy, but he always thought Jim enjoyed the pity party.

Of course he will never tell Jim this because he'll never hear the end of it.

"You okay back there?" asks Christine as they trudge through vegetation. She turns around, raising a hand over her eyes to shield them from the sun. Her eyes are bright, especially against her now sun kissed skin, and she looks better than she did when he first regained consciousness.

Not that Christine ever looks bad. She just looks – _relaxed_.

McCoy nods. "I feel like I'm back in Georgia," he says, trying to unstick his shirt from his stomach as he walks up to her. "The heat, the humidity..."

"Ah," Christine laughs, drinking him in. "Miss it?"

McCoy shrugs. "Sometimes," he admits. "Although space is growing on me."

"Better keep that to yourself," Christine says, grabbing his hand and pulling him forward, "or Jim will try to extend the mission for another five years."

McCoy groans as he follows her, knowing that she's right.

He's surprised that Jim even allowed the doctor go off with Christine without the captain accompanying them. Jim has been hovering over McCoy from the moment he woke up, staring at him with those blue eyes like the doctor is about to drop dead.

Jim is so preoccupied with McCoy's health that he doesn't notice that McCoy and Christine are pressed close together in the morning, their hands intertwined under layers of blankets.

When Christine suggested that she and McCoy go off to collect samples, McCoy half expected Jim to say something dismissive like "Yes, go off and collect samples from a planet we're never leaving", but Jim agreed to it as he hunched over the dismantled communicator.

They did bring vials to collect samples with the intention to get _something_ while they were gone, but McCoy knew that Christine wanted to be alone with him - even if it was only for a few hours.

They continued to walk in companionable silence until they came to a clearing. The trees arched over the light purple grass like a canopy, providing much needed shade on this particularly hot day.

"Ready to take a break?" Christine asks, glancing at McCoy. She has a coquettish smile curling on her lips.

McCoy pulls her into a kiss, feel the vibration of Christine's giggle against his mouth as his facial hair tickles her smooth skin. He drags his teeth against her lower lip while his hands find their way under her tank top, roaming up and down the planes of her back.

He savors each touch, each movement of their lips and tongues dancing together, and the sound of Christine's soft moans against his mouth.

Somehow, they make it to the center of the clearing before they undress each other. Their clothing drops onto the grass in a semicircle, forgotten.

McCoy feels them sinking to the soft grass as Christine's kisses puncture his psyche. He hooks her legs over his hips, scooting her forward without his mouth leaving hers. He's hard and ready.

McCoy enters Christine with one fluid stroke and groans against her collarbone. She is slick with arousal, arching against him as their bodies meet. Her breasts are brushing against his chest as her hands grip his arms, squeezing his muscles as McCoy skillfully plays her like a fiddle.

As they make love, McCoy breaks the kiss, dragging his lips over Christine's chin and down her throat, sucking on a spot he discovered months ago. He can taste her - the sweetness, the saltiness of her sweat.

She gasps as his tongue runs over a sensitive spot on her neck and the sound is like music to McCoy's ears. Her legs clench around his hips, urging him to go deeper, faster, harder. He obliges her, earning the sound of his name escaping her lips in a heady moan.

Christine's mouth is at his collarbone, her tongue tracing circles over his skin and her teeth nipping at him.

She's setting him on fire with her ministrations, letting his desire burn deeper. He can hear her breath quicken as he finds her spot deep inside of her, stroking it and applying pressure. Her fingernails dig into his skin, her moans muffled by his shoulder.

McCoy doesn't think about the what ifs: what if they died, what if she perished while he lived, what if he never woke up.

They're both alive and seemingly have all of the time in the world.

He groans as his groin tightens, lifting his head and murmurs into her ear, "I love you."

She doesn't respond in kind, but instead climaxes hard. McCoy watches the unguarded and raw expression on her face as her moans punctuate the air. Her eyes are squeezed shut, her dark lashes pressed against the tops of her cheeks.

He pumps into her once, twice, and shudders against Christine with a groan as he releases himself inside of her. McCoy presses his sweaty forehead against her shoulder and breathes heavily as the last of his orgasm dwindles when he hears her say, "I love you, too."

He lifts his head and sees her watching him with a lazy grin on her face. He lets her brush his hair off his forehead and run her fingers through his facial hair.

"You look good with a beard," she says as McCoy rolls off of her and pulls Christine against his sated body.

She rests her head in the crook of his arm and runs her fingers along the side of his body, caressing his skin.

McCoy chuckles as he pressed a kiss to her temple. "Is that a hint, sweetheart?"

"Just an observation," Christine says nonchalantly. "You look always look quite handsome."

He shakes his head, slightly embarrassed. "Be quiet you."

"Absolutely not," Christine retorts, her head popping up to look McCoy in the eye. Her brow is arched and her nose is adorably crinkled.

He chuckles at her indignant expression. He remembers an evening - when they first started seeing each other – that Christine confessed to having somewhat of a crush on him during their years at the Academy.

McCoy, ever humble, had been genuinely surprised that someone as beautiful as Christine Chapel would even look in his direction and told her so.

_"Don't take this the wrong way, Leonard, but you're like a drunkard when it comes how attractive you are," she groans. _

_"A drunkard?," he asks, confused by the allegory. "What the hell are you trying to say, lady?" _

_She tilts her head at him, looking almost annoyed, and replies, "A drunkard doesn't know when he's had too much and you, doctor, have no idea how many of us pined over you."_

McCoy leans down and nuzzles her nose with his own, before kissing her on the lips. When they pull apart, he slides a hand down her torso and touches her body just under her rib cage. "I know better than to argue with you," he replies as he traces his finger aimlessly on her skin.

"And I dare say that Jim is now aware of that," Christine quips, causing McCoy to smile.

He kisses her again, this time slow and languid. McCoy parts her mouth with the tip of his tongue, teasing her, before he pulls away. Breathing heavily, McCoy whispers, "Let's not worry about him for a while."

* * *

It's late afternoon when McCoy and Christine come back to the cave. Upon their approach, Jim's head shoots up. There is a look of irritation on Jim's face.

"Did the birds eat your bread crumbs?" he snaps, rising to his feet.

Christine rolls her eyes as she walks past him, dropping the bag containing samples next to the medical kits, and ignores Jim's comment.

The captain turns his blue eyes on McCoy, brow arched and waiting for an explanation. When McCoy shrugs, the doctor swears that Jim's brow raises even further.

"Calm down, will you?" McCoy snaps as he goes to grab some clean clothes, as his are soaked in sweat and covered in purple grass stains.

"You two were gone _all day_!" Jim exclaims.

It's true – they were gone all day. McCoy and Christine stayed in the clearing for hours on end, alternating between conversation and making love in the grass.

They are making up for lost time, after all.

As they lay in the muzzy weather, it is like they never left the _Enterprise_. The steadily setting sun is the only reminder that they are stranded on this planet (for the time being, if Jim has his way) and eventually they need to return to the cave.

Christine snorts as she darts past Jim and grabs her own clothing. "Sorry mom," she deadpans much to McCoy's amusement. They exchange a secretive glance, both of them smiling at each other.

As they begin to leave again, Jim's voice booms through the cave.

"Where are you going _now_?"

McCoy rolls his eyes and fires back, "Cool your jets, kid! We're going to the pond to wash off."

"Wait just a fucking minute," Jim says, wildly gesturing at McCoy with a pointed finger. "You'll let _him_ go down there with you, but not me? How is _that_ fair, Chapel?"

Christine makes an unintelligible noise and rolls her eyes. "Really?" she asks. "Are we _actually_ going to have this conversation?"

"Yes!" Jim sees the look forming on her face and decides to back track. He looks unsure of himself and seemingly sinks back a little. "Or maybe not."

As she leaves the cave, Christine deliberately bumps Jim's shoulder while muttering something under her breath.

"You just _assaulted_ your captain!" Jim calls after her. He snorts when he sees Christine flipping him off before she disappears through the brush. Jim turns to McCoy, furious. "Did you see that?"

"I did," McCoy replies, his voice tight.

"She is…" Jim starts, his throat muscles working as he tries to find the right word. "…so…" He's too pissed to think straight.

McCoy pats him on the shoulder as he leaves the cave. "You work on that, kid."

When he gets down to the pond, Christine is already in the water. She's in her bra and underwear (a precaution, more likely than not) and floating on her back, staring up at the dusky sky. Her hands are wafting through the water aimlessly and she has a content look on her face.

McCoy strips down to his underwear and dives into the pond, feeling the warm against his skin. He swims over to her and flicks water on her stomach. She flinches and turns her head to look at him with those hazel eyes of hers.

They are lighter than his and more green. Sometimes they look dark blue if the lighting is just right. Regardless, they are beautiful just like the rest of her.

"When I go back to the cave will Jim be alive or do we need to come up with an elaborate story of how he died?" she quips.

McCoy shrugs his shoulders as he treads water and Christine laughs before dunking herself under the surface. McCoy watches her, her body disjointed by the ripples in the water.

She pops back up a moment later, water streaming off of her body and back into the pond. Christine wipes away the excess with her hands and sees McCoy grinning at her. "What?"

"Nothing," he says, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her to him. McCoy nuzzled his nose against Christine's cheek as she wrapped her arms around his neck. "Nothing of consequence, anyways."

"Hrm," Christine hummed, relaxing against his body. "I like that."

McCoy closed his eyes at the feeling of her fingers in his wet hair. "You and me both, darlin'," he whispers before kissing her. It's a sweet and lazy kiss. He lets out a content groan as Christine's fingers card through his hair. Christine's lips are pressing more urgently against his, her tongue brushing against his own.

They should be exhausted, given their earlier activities, but McCoy finds that his desire for Christine is insurmountable. His dick is hard once more and he groans into Christine's mouth. McCoy's hand slides to cup her rump, squeezing a cheek, and feels her grind against him. The friction is delicious and they both moan.

McCoy's hand is traveling up Christine's back to unclasp her bra when he finally hears Jim's voice booming from the shore.

"Hey guys! You'll never guess what..._the fuck_ is going on?" Jim demands, his tone changing from jovial to confusion and anger.

McCoy can feel the blood draining from his face as he and Christine pull apart, turning their heads towards Jim. "Oh shit," he grits through his teeth.

"What the fuck is going on?" Jim demands again, his voice shrill. His eyes are darting between McCoy and Christine.

Neither McCoy or Christine answer him and opt to clinging to each other in the water.

"Bones?" Jim says more quietly. There is a lost expression on his face and his blue eyes are dark with an unnamed emotion.

It almost sounds like a plea and McCoy can feel his chest ache.

He watches as Jim snorts in disgust and turns on his heel, heading back towards the cave. McCoy and Christine are out of the water a like a shot, the former rushing ahead to confront his friend before the situation gets even more out of control.

"Kid!" McCoy calls, seeing Jim disappearing around a corner. "Jim!"

"Fuck you, Bones!" he hears Jim curse.

McCoy grits his teeth and silently curses himself for not telling Jim sooner. "Jim," he grunts as he follows after his friend. "Just listen to me for two seconds!"

"No!" The captain sounds like an indignant little boy and when McCoy turned the corner, Jim is pouting like one too. It's almost comical to see the Golden Boy of Starfleet standing in the cave with his arms crossed over his chest and his lower lip stuck out in anger.

Or maybe it's rage.

McCoy can't tell. All he wants to do is diffuse the situation as fast as he can. "Jim, please. Just let me explain," the doctor pleas.

Jim is shaking his head. "No," he replies angrily. "I don't want to hear what you have to say. You're a piece of shit, Bones!"

"How am I a piece of shit?" McCoy retorts.

"You _knew_ how I felt about _her_!"

"I knew...Jim, you were just trying to finish what you started with Christine," McCoy replies bluntly. He watches Jim turn his back to him. "You and I both know it! Hell, even _she_ knows it! You're not fooling anyone, kid!"

"You have no idea what you're talking about," he hears Jim say through gritted teeth. When the captain turns around, his eyes are blazing in fury and his fists are balled so tightly that Jim's knuckles are white. "At least I didn't go behind my best friend's back just to get laid!"

"You are talking out your ass, Jim!" McCoy snaps. "For _your_ information, Christine and I have been seeing each other for _months_!"

As the words leave his mouth, Christine appears in the cave, holding their belongings. She drops them on the floor of the cave and side steps over to McCoy, who wraps an arm around her shoulders. They exchange a glance as Jim stares at the both of them, his mouth open in unguarded shock.

"You...you've _what_?" he stammers as he brings his hands to his head, clutching his hair. His face is turning a brilliant shade of red and for a moment McCoy thinks that Jim is going to explode. "Are you _fucking_ kidding me? You two are dating? Really? You two?"

"Yes Jim," Christine replies back in an annoyed tone.

"This is a joke, right?" Jim makes an unintelligible sound when McCoy and Christine shake their heads. "How did this even happen? Did you two accidentally inhale sex pollen?"

"No!" McCoy and Christine yell in unison.

"The only way I could see this ever happening is because you two were..." Jim's voice trails off for a moment and he's deep in thought. He backs away, holding a hand up to signal not to go near him. "Andromeda."

McCoy steps forward. "Jim, I didn't..."

"You two have been dating since Andromeda?" he hears Jim whisper in disbelief.

"Yes, but Jim..."

"ANDROMEDA!?" Jim screams, the veins in his neck visible under his flushed skin. "You've been seeing her since Andromeda and you didn't bother to say something?"

"I would have said something, but it started out as something casual, kid!"

"You've been _fucking_ Chapel since Andromeda!"

"Excuse me," Christine yells. "I'm right here, Jim! And we're not fucking, you moron!"

"This doesn't concern you, princess!" Jim snaps at her as he lunges forward.

McCoy grabs Jim by the bicep, pulling him back. "Don't talk to her that way," McCoy warns, squeezing his friend's arm.

Jim shakes off his grip, nearly slapping him across the face with his uncontrolled movements. "Get the fuck off me," Jim growls, stalking away from them.

McCoy nods, backing away from Jim who is acting like a caged animal. The doctor stands in front of Christine and waits for Jim's rage to settle down enough for the younger man to speak. "Jim, I was going to tell you and I should have, but neither of us knew what was going on between us. I didn't want to say anything until we defined it."

"Oh my god," Jim snorts. "We? Us? Is this actually happening right now? You sound like you're talking about a real relationship, Bones!"

"Because I am, you infant! Did you not hear me say that we're dating? I know that the word isn't in your lexicon, but Christine and I are, in fact, in a relationship!"

"_What_?"

"She's my girlfriend, Jim!"

"Did you want me to congratulate you two on going steady?"

Christine groans. "Jim, just stop it, okay?"

"How many times do I have to tell you to _shut the fuck up_, Chapel?" Jim bellows.

McCoy is about to lunge for the captain when Christine pulls on his arm. "That's enough, Jim!"

"Stop acting like you're everyone's morality beacon! If I was dating someone, I would have told you!"

"You probably would have announced it all over the ship like the pompous asshole you are!" McCoy yells, pointing a finger at Jim.

Jim's nostrils flare in anger. "Speaking of the ship, we're going home. You're welcome, by the way."

"Wait what?" Christine asks hoarsely.

Jim looks at her. "The communicator works. I established contact with the _Enterprise_ and they're beaming us out as soon as we're ready to leave," Jim states. He walks over to their bags in a huff. "Now you two can screw each other's brains out in Starfleet regulation sheets."

"Jim, one more word..." McCoy warns.

Jim spins around with a bag in his hand. "Or what? You'll throw a punch? Defend Christine's honor? You hit like a woman, Bones. It wouldn't be a fair fight!"

"You are being _ridiculous_, Jim!" McCoy hisses, letting go of Christine's hand. "You've been stressed out and I understand that, but the way you're acting right now isn't the Jim Kirk I know." He tries to reach for the bag in Jim's hand. "Jim, listen to me."

"I don't want to listen to you and I sure as hell don't want to listen to you gloat."

"Gloat? I'm not going to gloat!" McCoy exclaims. "I love her, Jim!"

Jim is staring at him, trying to figure out if he was hearing McCoy correctly. His lips are parted ever so slightly and his blue eyes are wide.

"And she loves me," McCoy adds, his voice calmer than before.

For a moment, the cave is silent and the three occupants are staring at each other. McCoy can hear the wildlife that surrounds them and the sound of his own breathing. His heart is thumping against his chest and his stomach is twisting into knots.

This is _not_ how he wanted to tell Jim or how he pictured it would go. Maybe Jim would be ever so slightly annoyed, perhaps give him the silent treatment as McCoy explained how he and Christine got together.

It was never anything like this. The yelling, the rage, the anger...

"Who else knows?" Jim says hoarsely as he's hurling their things into bags. McCoy and Christine's silence only makes him more furious, judging by the look he gives them when he looks up. "Of course, Carol because she's your best friend. And I bet Uhura knows - the three of you are as thick as thieves. Always up to _something_..." He trails off and McCoy can see the realization on Jim's face that Spock - Spock, of all people - knew about him and Christine before Jim did.

"Excuse me?" Christine retorts angrily. "That is the pot calling the kettle black, you hypocrite!"

"Nurse Chapel!" Jim yells, spinning around and addressing her. "You will address me as Captain. Also, one more insult from you and I will write you up for insubordination."

"Oh come on, Jim!" McCoy counters, coming close to his wit's end. "Just knock it off. You're angry, we get it. Just stop."

McCoy watches as Jim turns his icy blue gazes onto him. "Are you aware of Starfleet Regulation 49.46, Paragraph Four?" Jim asks in a calm, authoritative voice. "A Starfleet superior officer shall not fraternize with a lower ranked individual in the same unit..."

"You don't even fucking think about it, Jim," McCoy threatens.

"...if a superior officer is found in a position of such fraternization, they shall be removed from duty and sent back to Starfleet Headquarters to await trial," Jim continues. He is glaring at McCoy, seemingly daring him to provoke his captain into doing the unthinkable.

That's when McCoy grabs Jim, pulling him close to him and squeezing his bicep hard enough to leave bruises. "Look here, you piece of shit! You can have me court martialed. Hell, have me hung, drawn and quartered by Starfleet to your heart's content! Just remember one thing before you decide to file that report, kid," McCoy growls as he leans in. He can see that he's making Jim nervous by the momentary flicker in the younger man's eyes. "Unlike you, I don't need Starfleet. I had a career before I got roped into this nonsense, whereas you were just some small town, corn-fed delinquent who had no future and nowhere else to go."

Christine is placing her hand on his chest, gently pushing him back. "Okay, that's enough Leonard," she says, trying to defuse the situation.

He yanks Jim's arm and hears a soft cry escape his friend's lips. "I can save you some time with filling out that paperwork for your report. You can dump us off at the next shithole space station and while you'll be stuck in space, trapped on a ship where the crew will most certainly hate you, we'll be fine. I'll set up my own private practice or join the staff at one of the hospitals in the city, but at least I'll be happy. You will be the same miserable little fuck I met on the shuttle. So go on, Jim, file that report. See where it gets you."

"Now you're _done_," Christine hisses, pulling McCoy away from Jim, who just stands there like he's been doused in ice water. Their eyes are locked in a silent standoff and McCoy knows that he's crossed too many lines during his tirade judging by the wounded look in Jim's eyes.

"Chapel," Jim utters as he stares at McCoy, not noticing how McCoy is balling his fist, ready to slug the kid if it's necessary.

"Yes sir?"

"The _Enterprise_ will be beaming us in thirty minutes," he states, turning to Christine. "Please make sure that you and Dr. McCoy have your belongings and that you will be ready to board the ship."

Christine nods. "Of course, sir," she replies. Her answer falls on deaf ears as Jim's turned back around and is ignoring the both of them.

In silence, McCoy and Christine pack up and get back into their uniforms. Every so often, McCoy glances over his shoulder to see Jim with his back still turned towards them.

The tension is palpable and the doctor cannot wait to be back on the ship where they can be separated by their quarters.

Once they are back in their uniforms and as presentable as they can be given the circumstances, Jim establishes contact with the _Enterprise_ once more. It's a blessed relief to hear Uhura's voice over the communicator and when McCoy looks over, he sees that Christine's eyes are bright with tears.

As McCoy reaches for Christine's hand, he hears Jim say, "Beam us up, Scotty."

They materialize on the pad in the Transporter Bay and for once, McCoy doesn't feel like he's about to throw up from being reduced to particles.

He's relieved to be home.

He feels Christine letting go of his hand as she pushes past him and Jim. McCoy watches as she leaps into the awaiting arms of Carol and Uhura, pulling them to her.

"Captain, Doctor McCoy," says Spock as he approaches the pad. "We are relieved to have you back on board." He looks as relieved as a Vulcan can be until he notices the tension between the two friends.

McCoy watches one of the Vulcan's brows arch in curiosity and the First Officer's dark eyes looking at him.

"Have you notified Starfleet that we've been recovered?" asks Jim in a clipped tone as he walks off the pad.

Spock glances back at McCoy, who steps down from the pad and stands next to the Vulcan. "Yes sir, I did," he replies. "I have taken the liberty to notifying your families that you have returned and that you will be contacting them after the staff in Sick Bay have assessed you."

The latter part makes Jim visibly flinch and McCoy feels a sinking feeling in his gut as he silently curses his temper.

Jim has no family to call. None that he wants to talk to anyway.

"Thank you, Mr. Spock," Jim replies as he heads towards the exit, bypassing the medical team that has just arrived. "I'll be in my quarters."

"Captain," Spock says, "I believe it would be wise for you to be evaluated by our medical team before you return to your quarters."

Jim pauses mid step and spun around, his heated glare on both McCoy and Spock. He charges back over, ignoring Christine, Carol, and Uhura, and points a shaking finger at Spock. "It would have been wise for you to tell me that my best friend was involved with his nurse," he growls.

"That was not my place," Spock replies.

"You are my friend," Jim replies, "and you should have told me."

"Indeed I am your friend, but it was not my place to divulge information that was Dr. McCoy's personal business," Spock says, standing his ground.

Jim's eyes flicker for a moment as he lowers his hand. "Fuck _you_," he hisses before leaving abruptly.

The Transporter Room is silent until Spock turns to McCoy and says, "I take it that the Captain knows about your relationship and that it did not go over well."

"You could say that," answers McCoy with a heavy heart.


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**Chapter Thirteen**

"Look on the bright side," Carol says to McCoy and Christine in the mess hall.

McCoy raises a brow as his thumb strokes the top of Christine's hand and asks, "There's a bright side?"

"Cheeky," Carol replies back, her golden brows creased into a frown. She looks to Christine who shrugs and rests her head on McCoy's shoulder.

McCoy chuckles. "I'm sorry," he says. "Go on, Carol. What's the bright side?"

"Well you don't have to hide your relationship from the crew, seeing how they found out about it within the first hour of you two being back," she answers. She puts a forkful of salad into her mouth and chews. After dabbing her mouth with her napkin, Carol adds, "And Jim _finally_ stopped hitting on Christine."

McCoy sighs at the last part. Christine lifts her head up off his shoulder and gives him a sympathetic look, which he returns with a half-smile before poking at his food again.

"You okay?" Christine whispers into his ear.

McCoy nods. "I almost wish he was still hitting on you," he admits in a low voice. "At least then he would be speaking to me."

He doesn't see Carol and Christine exchanging uncomfortable glances, but he knows that the two women are doing it.

"Jim will get over it," Carol tells McCoy before saying to Christine, "He will, won't he?"

"Carol," Christine says through gritted teeth, "you're _not_ helping."

Normally, McCoy would end up laughing at the two of them, but today he's not in the mood.

It's been a week since returning to the _Enterprise_ and the atmosphere has been uncomfortable at best.

The first day the three of them were back, McCoy and Christine were taken to Sick Bay to be looked over by Dr. M'Benga while Jim barricaded himself in his quarters. After he and Christine were released, they contacted their families to let them know that they were alive and well.

During his comm with his parents, Christine came by his quarters to see how he was doing and McCoy decided to introduce David and Rose McCoy to his girlfriend. It was big step, but a necessary one in McCoy's opinion.

And of course they adored Christine. His father was impressed with her educational background ("Berkeley? That's some school, missy! Not everyone can boast that they went there, then went onto nursing school.") and his mother was tickled by finally putting a face to the illustrious girlfriend.

"Aren't you precious?" he recalled his mother gushing in her thick Georgian accent. "You're like a little cupcake, isn't she, David? I could just eat you up!"

McCoy had flushed in embarrassment as Christine giggled and thanked his mother. When the comm ended, he was thoroughly mortified while Christine was charmed by the McCoys.

As he fell asleep that night with Christine in his arms, appreciating the feeling of a mattress under his body and clean sheets tucked around him, McCoy thought to himself, _At least one of my relationships isn't a complete catastrophe._

"Have you tried talking to him?" Carol asks.

McCoy blinks. "Huh?"

"Have you tried talking to Jim?" Carol repeats.

McCoy shrugs. "I saw him during our debriefing with Starfleet," he says, spearing a piece of his dinner with his fork.

"Oh," Carol says, sounding hopeful. "And? What happened?"

"He only spoke to me when asking me about the mission," McCoy admits, sighing heavily. "As soon as we were done, Jim hightailed it out of the conference room." He sets his fork down, making fist with his hand, looking up at Carol through his brows. "I really fucked up."

"He just needs to cool off," Christine begins to say.

McCoy shoots her a dubious look. "No, I _really_ fucked up."

The truth is that while he and Jim have that their fair share of disagreements, they only last a few hours at best (except for that one time Jim had drunkenly punched McCoy in the face during a brawl and gave him a fat lip. McCoy had made it a full twenty-four hours before he finally relented and let a pathetic faced Jim into his dorm room). They bickered, they argued, but in their years of being friends, Jim and McCoy never actually fought.

Now McCoy found himself in a constant cycle of seeing Jim during their morning briefings or in the hallways without the latter uttering a single word to him, much less looking in his direction unless Jim absolutely had to. When the captain did address him, it was in clipped and formal tones without the slightest hint of friendliness in his voice.

It was disconcerting and McCoy loathed every minute of it.

"You know," Carol says, "Christine and I argue."

Christine nods her head in agreement. "We do."

"One time we didn't speak to each other for a week."

"Carol, that's because you got us caught by Academy security after curfew!"

"That was _not_ my fault! If Gaila hadn't been trying to get that bartender's number, we would have made it on time!"

"Gaila? Gaila went home with that guy from Nyota's study group. That was _you_!"

"It was Gaila!"

"Ask Nyota!"

McCoy rubs a hand over his face as he groaned, catching the attention of both women. "This isn't some Academy rule breaking, ladies," he says, his voice muffled. He lifts his head. "I said some awful things to him before we were beamed back."

He catches Carol giving Christine a questionable look and his girlfriend nodding in reply, as if to say, "Yes, it was _that bad_."

"Have you tried to apologize?"

"I don't think a simple 'I'm sorry' will gloss this over, Carol," McCoy sighs. As Carol is about to say something, McCoy's comm goes off. He grabs it off the table and flips it open. "McCoy," he says.

"Doctor, could you please join me in my ready room?" asks Spock over the device. "There is a matter I wish to discuss with you."

McCoy arches a brow. "Did Jim file paperwork?" he asks, suddenly nervous that the captain actually made good on his threat. When he looks at Christine, McCoy sees her eyes widening in dread.

"No he did not," Spock replies, sounding perplexed. "I was unaware that the Captain was filing additional paperwork in regards to the mission on Goa III."

McCoy breathes a sigh of relief. "Never mind," he replies. "I'll be right there."

He leaves the mess hall after giving Christine a quick kiss and saying goodbye to Carol. As McCoy hurries through the ship, he knows that this conversation is going to be about Jim.

"Even when we aren't speaking, he's always lurking somewhere," McCoy grumbles to himself as he gets into the turbolift. As the doors are about to close a hand slips in, triggering the sensors. McCoy is about to admonish the culprit when he realizes that he's looking into Jim's cold stare.

"I can take another one," the younger man says coolly.

McCoy shakes his head. "Spock called you?" he asks as Jim stands in the doorway.

"No," Jim replies tartly, which actually means, "Yes." Like before, Jim is refusing to look the doctor directly in the eye and just being in McCoy's presence seems to make the kid angrier. McCoy watches as Jim's face flushes and his nostrils flare.

"Jim, just get in," McCoy finally says, breaking the uncomfortable silence. "Please."

Jim steps inside and grumbles, "I'm only doing this because I don't want to keep his Royal Highness waiting."

"That's fine," McCoy responds as the door closes.

The tension inside the turbolift could be cut with a knife and even though they arrive at their destination within moments, it feels like hours to McCoy. He's about to say something when the doors open and Jim is out of the lift like a shot.

With a groan, McCoy follows him and is correct in his assumption that Spock has contacted Jim as well. He sees Jim speaking heatedly to Spock and gesturing towards McCoy.

"You know I don't want to speak to him unless I have to," he hears Jim snarl as McCoy approaches them.

Spock is impassive, as usual. "I called you both here so I could act as mediator. A resolution must be achieved if there is to be an efficient and efficacious working relationship between yourself and the doctor."

"I don't need or want a mediator," Jim snaps. He glowers at McCoy. "And I don't want to speak to _you_."

"Captain," Spock says, "it is important that you and Dr. McCoy resolve your personal issues as it is apparently impeding your professional duties. Admiral Morrow made a comment about the tension between you both after our debriefing yesterday and if he has noticed, then it is only logical that other Starfleet members have noticed as well."

McCoy presses his lips together and stays quiet. Jim, on the other hand, is seething with anger because he knows that Spock is right. That's all they need – to have Starfleet poking their noses into the dramatics on the ship and starting breathing down their necks.

"If you would please accompany me into my ready room, we can discuss this matter privately," Spock states, gesturing towards the open door.

"I don't want to talk about it," Jim retorts childishly, crossing his arms over his chest in a vain attempt to put up some sort of barrier between himself, McCoy, and Spock.

Spock raises a brow. "Very well," he replies. "You may listen to Dr. McCoy's perception of the current situation and if you feel that he has omitted certain details, you may provide your input."

"I don't want to talk about it," Jim says again, his voice more forceful. "What part of that don't you get?"

"Captain, I would suggest we discuss this in my ready room," Spock says. "It is not a request."

McCoy hears Jim grunt and mutter some insult under his breath as he stomps into the ready room. As he follows the captain, Spock remains in place. McCoy looks at him questioningly. "Aren't you coming too?" he asks.

"It would be best if you and the captain speak alone," Spock states and judging by his tone, this is also not a request. "I will be outside."

McCoy nods and goes into the room, where Jim is pacing like a predator and lost in his own thoughts. The door shuts and Jim is staring at him.

"Where's Spock?" he asks.

McCoy swallows. "He decided that it would be best if we speak alone."

"Figures," Jim spits. "He's all talk, no follow through."

McCoy shrugs his shoulders. "Jim, I'm…"

"Just because Spock wants us to talk, doesn't mean it's going to happen," Jim hisses, his blue eyes burning.

McCoy frowns. "Then I'm going to do the talking and you're going to listen," he says.

"Didn't I just say that we weren't going to talk?"

"And didn't I just say that _I_ was going to do the talking?" McCoy immediately fires back.

Jim is silent, the muscles in his throat working as he swallows back a sharp retort. For a moment, McCoy thinks he's going to bolt, but Jim surprises him and remains firmly rooted to the space he's occupying.

"Okay," McCoy breathes, placing his hands on the back of the chair. "Look, kid, I'm sorry for what I said on Goa III. It was uncalled for and I know I went too far."

He sees Jim's eyes flickering, but other than that, the kid is as still as a statue.

_Dammit kid_, the doctor thinks. "I was angry, but it was no excuse for me to attack you."

"You called me a small town, corn-fed delinquent who had no future and nowhere else to go," Jim mimics.

McCoy winces at his words. "I know I did," he replies, softly. "And I am sorry."

"You also said that I'm going to be the same miserable little fuck you met on the shuttle in Riverside."

"Yeah, I did. I was angry and …..I didn't mean it though. I just got carried away with my feelings," McCoy answers remorsefully.

The silence grows as Jim stares at McCoy with an incredulous expression. Jim's lips are pressed together in a thin line and his jaw is hard. McCoy's hopeful beseeching look is wasted on Jim. If this issue is not resolved he will lose his best friend…if Jim is still his best friend by the end of it.

The Silence is making McCoy miserably uncomfortable. The doctor is used to Jim talking non-stop and having to yell at the kid just to shut him up for a nanosecond. The fact that he's so quiet is disconcerting and makes McCoy want to walk over to him and wring Jim's neck.

"That's not why I'm pissed at you," Jim finally says.

McCoy nods. "Is it because of Christine?"

That earns a bark of disgust from Jim, who rolls his eyes. For a moment, McCoy thinks he's hit the nail on the head and waits for Jim to start ranting and raving about "The Bro Code" or whatever idea he has up his sleeve.

"I could give two shits about Chapel," Jim argues as he starts pacing with balled fists. "She's just some girl, Bones! It's not even the point!"

"Some girl?" McCoy is instantly furious and he can feel his face turning red. He knows that Jim is angry for a variety of reasons, mostly having to do with his own ego, but this is becoming downright stupid. "_Some girl_?" he bellows as he charges over to Jim, who has turned his back to the doctor. "Look kid, that person you are referring to as some girl is _my girlfriend_!"

He's about to grab Jim by the shoulder, but the kid turns around to face him. What McCoy sees is startling and makes his stomach twist into knots. Jim is upset - _really upset_.

One thing McCoy had quickly learned about Jim when they first became friends was that the younger man was very guarded with his emotions. It took a lot of things - anger, sadness, trust - for Jim to let his guard down.

And now McCoy is seeing Jim's emotions getting the best of him again. A pair of bright blue eyes is staring at him with unshed tears threatening to spill over. Jim's lower lip and chin are trembling as he tries to keep himself in check because Spock is within earshot and he is the captain.

"_That_," he hisses, his voice cracking and raising an accusatory finger at McCoy, "is why I'm angry." When Jim blinks, a tear escapes and falls down his cheek. He makes no effort to wipe it away.

McCoy swallows, feeling a lump forming in his throat.

"I'm your best friend, Bones," Jim says, almost pleading. "Your best friend."

"I know, kid," McCoy starts to say when Jim cuts him off again.

"No," Jim snaps, his voice rising an octave. "You get to shut the hell up and listen to me for once!"

Stunned, McCoy immediately closes his mouth.

"I tell you _everything_, Bones. Everything. Even if you don't want to hear or if you're too busy, I still tell you. Do you know why? Because you're my best friend..." Jim's voice trails off and for a moment, McCoy thinks that the kid is going to lose it right there. Jim collects himself and swallows roughly. "You should have told me about you and Chapel."

Now it all makes sense and McCoy feels like an ass for thinking that Jim was upset about Chapel. Jim was so cavalier about everything that McCoy's mind immediately went to the most trivial reason for his friend's anger.

Of course it went deeper than that and McCoy is just another asshole underestimating Jim Kirk.

"I know," McCoy says quietly.

"Why did I have to find out that Spock knew about it before I did?" Jim whispers as he roughly wipes his eyes, making the skin pink. "You don't even _like_ him."

McCoy doesn't say anything because there is nothing to say and Jim is crying – really crying. He's not sobbing, not by a longshot, but there are tears flowing down his cheeks and his nose is running. He watches Jim wipe his nose on his gold sleeve of his tunic and clears his throat. "Do you need a minute?" McCoy asks.

"No," Jim sniffs.

McCoy knows Jim well enough to know that he means yes. "Look kid," he says, "for what it's worth, I am sorry I didn't tell you."

"I know," he hears Jim mumble.

McCoy nods. "When you want to come talk, just come, okay? Don't wait on ceremony, just hightail it over to my quarters, my office, where ever. And we'll talk." Jim is silent as he goes to leave and McCoy turns his head to check on him. "Jim? I'm serious – just come."

"Okay," he replies in a voice barely above a whisper.

It's not a lot, but it's enough to put McCoy's mind at ease.

* * *

He goes straight to Christine's quarters and then to her bed after she lets him inside, where he face plants on the mattress. They smell like Christine's perfume and fresh laundry.

"That good, huh?" she says as she sits down next to his prone body.

McCoy groans into the sheets. "You have no idea," he replies in a muffled voice. "It was fucking awful!"

He feels the mattress shift as Christine lies down next to him on her back. "Did you two get to talk?"

"Yes," he says, turning his head towards her. "He's not mad about us."

"He's not?" Christine asks. She is looking up at the ceiling and shrugs. "Here I thought I was living every girl's fantasy about having two men fight over her."

McCoy reaches over and tickles her side. She tries to squirm away from him while suppressing her laughter, but he pulls her to him and wraps an arm over her middle. "You are diabolical, lady," he jokes as he presses a kiss to her temple. "Completely and utterly diabolical."

"I'm only five percent diabolical," Christine retorts as she nuzzles her head against his shoulder. "So what is Jim mad about?"

"I didn't tell him about us," McCoy sighs. "And that I didn't tell him anything at all."

He watches Christine nod in understanding. "Did you apologize?" she asks, her fingers stroking his arm through the material of his uniform.

"As much as I could," McCoy admits. "I told him that when he's ready to talk, just to come find me."

"That's probably the right way to approach it."

"Honestly Chris, I don't know if he will," he says hoarsely.

Christine cards her fingers through his hair and pinches the tip of his nose. "Leonard, it's Jim we're talking about," she tells him. "He _will_ come."

"If you're right, I'll meet _your parents_," McCoy quips. "Even your gun toting daddy."

"You know, Dr. McCoy," Christine says as she pulls him on top of her. "I'm going to hold you to that…but just not right now."


	14. Chapter Fourteen

**Chapter Fourteen**

Eventually Jim is ready to talk and it's an inconvenient time because it's Jim and that's his M.O.

It's a few days after McCoy and the captain had it out in Spock's ready room and nearly 02:00 in the morning when the chime on McCoy's door goes off.

At first, McCoy thinks he's dreaming and cracks open an eye before dozing back off again with Christine pressed against his chest as they spoon.

The chime goes off again and startles McCoy awake, which in turn rouses Christine. "What the hell?" he grumbles, rubbing his eyes as he kicks off the blankets.

"Who is it?" Christine mumbles as she turns over and hugs herself to her pillow.

McCoy shrugs as he pulls on a pair of sweatpants and stalks out to his living room to answer the door. On the third chime, he opens the door and takes a step back.

Jim is standing out in the hallway, wearing his pajamas, and looking pathetic. His hair is mussed up from sleep (or lack thereof, if McCoy knows his best friend as well as he think he does) and he looks astonished that McCoy even answered the door at the late hour. "Hi," he says flatly.

"Hi," McCoy replies as he steps aside to let the captain into his quarters. "Couldn't sleep?"

Jim is looking around McCoy's quarters and shakes his head, before realizing that he may have woken up his friend. "Did I wake you?" he asks apologetically.

"Don't worry about it," McCoy says, waving his hand dismissively. "I said anytime you wanted to talk, didn't I?"

Jim nods in agreement, oddly silent, timid even.

"Let me get a shirt on," McCoy tells Jim as he walks towards his darkened bedroom. He motions to his cabinet that contains his stash of alcohol. "Make us some drinks and I'll be right out, okay?"

He watches Jim acknowledge him with a nod of his head, his blue eyes wide with hesitation. McCoy leans in the doorway, frowning. "Jim, it's fine," he says. "I'm glad you decided to come, kid."

That seems to put Jim at ease and he even gives a small smile as McCoy disappears into his bedroom.

Inside, he digs into his drawers and finds an old Academy t-shirt that's so worn out that the graphic is indistinguishable. As he pulls it over his head, he hears Christine mumble something. Chuckling, McCoy goes over to the bed and sits on the edge. "Come again?"

"Who was it," she asks as she turns over, looking at him through half-lidded eyes.

He leans down, taking her hand and kisses her knuckles. "It's Jim," he tells her.

"Should I leave?"

"No," McCoy replies. "Stay and go back to sleep. I'll make sure we keep it down, though you sleep through everything."

"Do not," she retorts sleepily.

McCoy grins and bends over to kiss her cheek. "I love you," he whispers into her ear.

"You too," Christine yawns. She closes her eyes and settles back into her pillow.

He goes back out to the living room, where Jim is waiting for him with two tumblers of bourbon. "Sorry about that," McCoy says as he shuts the door to his bedroom. "Christine's sleeping."

"Oh," Jim says, looking uncomfortable as he sips his bourbon. "Should I go? To give you two some privacy."

"Nah," McCoy replies as he sits down. "The woman is practically in a coma right now. We could have a run in with Klingons and she'd sleep through it."

Jim arches a heavy brow. "You mean, you found someone who can sleep through your snoring?"

"I don't snore _that_ loud," McCoy counters, raising a critical brow as he takes a sip of his bourbon. "Not my fault that you're a light sleeper, Jim-boy."

Jim leans against his knees, tumbler in hand, and points an accusatory finger at the doctor. "Bones, you snore like a goddamn freight train. Have you ever recorded yourself?"

"You are full of shit, kid!"

Jim shakes his head as he drinks. "I'm only telling you the truth. Sorry that you're up to your eye balls in denial, old man."

McCoy starts to chuckle as he drinks the amber colored liquid from his glass. "Pot, kettle," he replies, which gets a grin from Jim. "What's on your mind?"

Jim shrugs. "I dunno," he says. "I couldn't sleep, so I decided to come down here."

"Well, you're always welcome to stop by," McCoy tells him.

"I'll probably need to comm you from now on in case you and the missus are…_busy_," Jim quips with a sly grin. He wrinkles his forehead and leans back in the chair. "How did that even happen? I mean…I can't even begin to fathom how Christine –"

"I made the first move, kid," McCoy interrupts. He raises a brow to a stunned Jim and downs the rest of his drink. "Do you want a refill?"

Jim hands him his tumbler, his mouth hanging open in disbelief. "_You_ made the first move?" he sputters. "What alternative universe did I just find myself in?"

"Oh please," McCoy snaps as he pours them another drink. "I am perfectly capable of flirting and wooing the ladies, you infant!"

Jim raises a brow as McCoy hands him his drink.

"Don't look at me that way," McCoy replies as he sits down. "I may not have had as much play as you at the Academy, but I had my fair share of fun, okay?"

"I just don't get how _this_," Jim says, motioning to the closed door, "happened."

"Tequila, dancing, and a pretty nurse," McCoy answers. "That's how that happened."

"You said you weren't going to say anything because you didn't know what was going on between you two," Jim recalls. "When did you figure that out?"

"About a month before the poker game at Sulu's. You know how I can get when it comes to commitment," McCoy says as he takes a sip of his drink. "Christine, whether you believe it or not, is not uptight."

"I think you're uptight enough for the both of you combined."

McCoy glares at Jim, who just smiles it off. "Ha fucking ha, kid."

"I know, I'm a natural comedian," Jim quips.

McCoy ignores the comment. "It became serious and by that point, I was afraid to tell you – or anyone for that matter – because I didn't want to hear what others thought. I know that we're a bit of an odd couple with Christine being Christine and me being a grouch, but it works. It's worked better than my relationship with my ex-wife, even since the beginning," he explains. "You know, when it was just sex."

"Leonard McCoy and Christine Chapel were having _casual sex_…with each other?" Jim is grinning like a moron and chuckles to himself. "Man, I should have brought a tricorder! This shit is unreal."

"Bring a tricorder and I will shove it right up your ass," McCoy growls.

Jim holds his hands up in surrender, still grinning. "Duly noted."

"My parents really like her," McCoy says quietly.

"They talked to her?"

McCoy nods. "Right after we got back from Goa III. My mom had been bothering me about it for months and I finally relented."

"How did it go?"

"Aside from me being mortified? It went well," he says. "Spock found out by accident. About Chris and me. We were having dinner with one of her brothers-"

Jim shakes his head, cutting McCoy off. "I know. He told me." They both fall silent until Jim clears his throat and says, "I may overreacted…just _a little bit_."

"No, kid, you were right. I should have told you." McCoy leans back in his seat and sighs. "You shouldn't have found out that way."

"Well, I was trying to pursue your girlfriend. I kind of deserved it."

"Except that you didn't know that she was my girlfriend."

"True, but I also said that she was out of your league," Jim sighs. "Which isn't true."

McCoy nods, understanding. "I know, kid."

"This is weird, you know," Jim comments. "You having a girlfriend. Or getting laid in general."

"Watch it, you idiot," McCoy warns, not really meaning it.

Jim flashes him a smile. "I'm just saying that it's weird. Don't get yourself worked up over nothing!"

Both men laugh and sip their drinks in the pleasant silence that follows. McCoy knows that whatever hurt feelings were there, they have come and gone. He glances at Jim and notices that his friend looks better than when he had last seen him.

McCoy clears his throat and tells Jim, "I think I'm going to marry her, kid."

"Really Bones?" There's no sarcasm in Jim's voice and when McCoy looks up from his drink, Jim looks thoughtful at the confession.

McCoy nods. "Yeah…I'm pretty sure." He laughs nervously. "I thought you were going to tell me that I've lost my mind."

"Oh, believe me. You have," Jim quips with a mischievous grin on his face. He turns serious, which is (mostly) unusual for him. "I don't think you two are an odd couple."

"You don't?"

Jim shakes his head. "No, I can see why it works," he replies. "Just remember to invite me to the wedding, okay?"

"Kid, you'll be standing up there with me," McCoy says tenderly. "You better be."

"Don't worry, Bones," the kid says as he brings his tumbler to his lips. "I plan on it."

* * *

_Two Years Later_

The good thing about Alexander Chapel liking you is the strings he can pull to make sure that one can get married back on Earth.

McCoy isn't sure how his impending father-in-law pulled it off or who he had to bribe, but McCoy finds himself standing in a waiting room at San Francisco City Hall wearing a suit – rather than his formal Starfleet uniform – and watching a nervous Jim Kirk pacing.

"Will you cut that out?" McCoy finally orders from his seat. "What has gotten into you anyway? You're not even getting married!"

Jim glares at him from across the room. "I'm nervous, okay?"

"I can see that."

"This is a big fucking deal."

"I know."

"You're getting _married_. MARRIED!" Jim exclaims as he begins pacing again, shaking his head in disbelief. "I can't believe my best friend is getting married…"

McCoy tilts his head in curiosity. "Don't you know anyone who's been married, kid?"

"That's not the point," Jim immediately snaps. He stops walking and lets out a sigh. "You're my best friend _and_ you're getting married."

"Nothing is going to change, Jim."

"I know that," Jim admits as he comes back to sit down next to McCoy. "It's just weird is all."

McCoy laughs because that's all he can do as he watches Jim. "I'm surprised you haven't tried to kidnap me to Risa for one last hurrah."

"God no!" Jim says. "Christine would _kill me_ if I did that. Actually, she would probably kill me for not bringing her along." He raises a brow and casts McCoy a sidelong expression. "Leave it to _you_ to marry the fun girl. I'm only slightly jealous."

McCoy snorts. "I'm glad that it's only _slightly_," he laughs as he puts a hand on Jim's shoulder. "You have the rings?"

Jim pats the breast pocket of his suit and nods. "Check," he replies. "You're still saying 'I do'?"

Instead of answering, McCoy punches Jim in the arm as the door opens. McCoy looks up and sees Christine poking her head into the room with a smile on her face. She steps inside, carrying her bouquet in one hand, and the train of her dress in the other.

The dress is ivory and flowing with a light green band of fabric at her waist that is meant as a nod to Gaila's memory (even though Christine confesses the Orion would have bitched and whined her way through the wedding because she hated weddings). Her hair is swept into an up do that is simple and elegantly understated.

Of course she looks stunning because it's Christine and she's always beautiful to him. The woman could be wearing just a paper bag and McCoy would still be madly in love with her.

"You aren't supposed to be in here!" Jim shouts, leaping to his feet.

Christine gives the captain a scathing look. "Says who?" she snaps, dropping the train to her dress and putting her free hand on her hip.

"It's bad luck!" Jim counters. He turns to McCoy, looking unsure of what he has just said, and whispers, "Right?"

McCoy watches Christine roll her eyes and shake her head. "I saw him this morning, you moron," Christine counters, gesturing at him with her bouquet.

"Too late, kid," McCoy says as he pats Jim on the shoulder before walking over to Christine and giving her a kiss on the lips.

Jim is groaning. "What is wrong with you two?" he whines. "You're ruining the element of surprise!"

"What's wrong with us? What's wrong with _you_, Jim?" Christine retorts as she snakes an arm around McCoy's waist and shakes her head.

McCoy inclines his head and whispers loud enough for Jim to hear, "He's nervous."

"Oh," Christine says, understanding. She smiles sweetly at Jim, clearly touched by his reaction even though he's acting like a lunatic. "That's really sweet, hot shot."

"I am _not_ nervous!" Jim grunts.

McCoy and Christine laugh at him, which only irritates Jim more and he starts to mutter to himself, which he does when he's especially pissed off at the couple.

He knows that Jim doesn't actually mean it. He and Christine have grown close, much to McCoy's relief.

On multiple occasions, McCoy has found them conspiring against him, starting with his birthday or more recently his bachelor party (in which the doctor ended up getting black out drunk and waking up on the floor of his apartment wearing a tiara – just a tiara – while Jim was incoherent on the couch and told his amused wife-to-be, "I don't know who this piece of plastic belongs to, but I'm going to kill Jim when he wakes up" while Jim shrieked, "Chris, they took the bar! The whole fucking bar! Wait…where the _hell_ are we?").

It's a relief that his best friend and his fiancée don't hate each other, despite their earlier altercations. When they do bicker, it's always in jest, and usually ends up with McCoy laughing himself into tears.

Hell – Jim even helped McCoy orchestrate the marriage proposal which the former admitted was epic and involved handwritten cue cards because the doctor thought he get too choked up while asking Christine to marry him.

It had been grossly romantic and ended with McCoy slipping his grandmother's engagement ring onto Christine's ring finger.

_This_, he thought to himself as he was kissing Christine while tears rolled down both of their cheeks, _is for forever and ever._

There is another knock at the door and this time it's Carol, who pokes her head into the room. "They're ready for us," she says as she steps into the room, wearing a dress that is the same shade of green as the band around Christine's waist.

Uhura, in a dress of the same shade, is right behind her and as soon as she sees Christine, she bursts into tears. "God, Chris, why do you have to look so goddamn beautiful!" she complains, fondly of course, as she hugs the bride. She dabs her eyes with a tissue and sniffs before turning her attention to McCoy. "You better not cry, Leonard, or I'm going to ruin my make-up. That proposal was bad enough!"

"For the record, I am perfectly fine," McCoy protests. "It's not my fault that you and Jim are a mess!"

Jim scoffs very audibly as they leave the waiting room. "I am _not_ a mess."

"Liar," Christine singsongs as she squeezes McCoy's hand.

"Am not!"

Christine good naturedly sticks her tongue out at Jim and gives him a quick peck on the cheek. "Lying liar, but it's okay, hot shot."

"Shut up, Chapel," McCoy hears Jim say, his voice cracking with emotion, and admits to himself that it's incredibly endearing to see his best friend fretting so much.

McCoy pulls Christine to him and wraps an arm around her bare shoulders. "Ready?" he asks as they make their way down the spiral staircase, towards their family and friends.

"Always," Christine answers.

So they marry under the glass dome of City Hall on a March afternoon. It's not the huge wedding that some crew members of the _Enterprise_ predicted – it's small and intimate, just the way he and Christine both want it.

Of course, Jim _and_ Uhura end up sobbing their way through the brief ceremony because the former is an idiot and the latter is an emotional basket case.

At one point, Christine leans over to the justice of the peace and says, quite audibly, "You may want to hurry up before the best man has a nervous breakdown" to which Jim bellows, "I'll show you a nervous breakdown, Chapel!" and her mother yells, "CHRISTINE ELIZABETH CHAPEL!"

Later that evening, after a joyous and relaxed dinner among friends, when they are lying in bed together, both of them still in their formal wear, and looking at the wedding bands on their fingers, McCoy hears Christine whisper into his ear, "So, what do you want?"

"You," he whispers back, his head resting against hers. "Always you and nothing else."

**FIN.**


End file.
